A Promise In The Dark
by bakedbeansspaghettihoops
Summary: "How long do you think we can keep this up?" she asked as she traced lazy patterns across his chest. "It's called fatal attraction for a reason, Granger." The imminent war seems to have brought two unlikely people together, but how long will it last with things getting more and more complicated by the second? Dramione :) Not compatible with HBP or DH. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1: Somehow It Began

**A/N:** Hello and welcome to A Promise In The Dark :) I haven't written anything for a while so apologies if I'm a bit rusty! I'd love to know your thoughts so please review - especially as I have quite a few of the chapters written up already and am eager to post them! I know where I'm going with this story and there is an over-arching plan, so hopefully there won't be any long waits between uploads!

 **Summary:** "How long do you think we can keep this up?" she asked as she traced lazy patterns across his chest. "It's called fatal attraction for a reason, Granger." The imminent war seems to have brought two unlikely people together, but how long will it last with things getting more and more complicated by the second? Dramione :) Not compatible with HBP or DH. Please R&R!

 **Quick Note:** I have chosen to not talk a lot about the intricacies of Harry's battle with Voldermort in this story. The war is hugely important and the roles the characters play are crucial to the plot. However, I'm sort of disregarding the last two books and dipping in and out of certain details to make everything slot together - this will make more sense as the chapters unfold :)

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot!

"What are you doing?"

She winced at how weak her voice sounded in the candlelight. _Great._ Now was not the time for desperate words and meaningful gestures. Not that that was her intention, but she couldn't deny how it sounded – how it would look to him. She felt his arm tense under her touch and immediately cursed herself. The atmosphere was always fragile after they finished, and she had only made things more delicate. He exhaled. She held her breath.

"Getting dressed. Dinner's in five minutes."

His words were clipped; stern and void of emotion. Not unlike him, but so far removed from his passionate, incoherent murmurs she could still hear echoes of. It was always in moments like this that she found herself wondering where his gentleness evaporated to. Not that gentle was a particularly fitting term for him, but compared to the iciness radiating off of him now, it felt appropriate. A heartbeat ago he was all sensual caresses and whispered pleas. Now she knew she'd be lucky to get a warm smile out of him for the rest of the evening.

"We only just finished."

Her statement was unnecessary, and yet she felt silence would have been even worse. Her voice sounded so small, and she wasn't surprised that she could practically _feel_ the irritation rolling off him in waves. She unconsciously balled her hands into tight fists as the air thickened with tension. It was going to be one of those evenings.

"We are not going over this again, Granger."

His order was punctuated by the stealth at which he detached himself from her and shoved his boxers on, taking a moment only to locate the rest of his attire. Hermione wrenched her eyes away from his body and forced herself to follow suit. She knew that he wasn't being unreasonable; if she was perfectly honest, she knew that it was her who was making the whole thing more complicated than it needed to be. She had set the tone of this entire arrangement three weeks ago, and it wasn't fair of her to try and alter them for no logical reason. She didn't want him to cuddle up with her after sex; she didn't want him to hold her hand or whisper sweet nothings in her ear. She certainly didn't want to fall asleep in his arms, with his shallow breathing and heartbeat soothing her into slumber. He was not someone she could become attached to; it would defeat the whole point. But she couldn't deny that sharing a maximum of ten blissful seconds of peace before he scrambled to cover up their actions was beginning to take its toll on her. It was a messing with her head to go from something so intimate to something so detached in the space of a vulnerable few moments.

"Here."

She looked up as he handed her her bra, and she tried to ignore the way his eyes swept over her exposed skin hungrily. She tactfully turned away from him to grab her shirt and pull up her skirt, feeling his gaze burn through her skin.

"When will I see you next?" she asked nonchalantly, knowing what the answer would be before he even opened his mouth.

"Don't know. I'll contact you."

The familiarity of his words was an odd comfort. In some ways it made things exciting – having to anticipate when the next time she'd feel his touch would be. But the main reason she appreciated the situation's uncertainty was the lack of commitment it connoted. They were on the brink of war – their attentions were pulled in different demanding directions. This thing between them demanded nothing from them when they were going about their everyday lives. It was a welcome relief, and something she didn't take for granted.

By the time she'd dressed and turned around he was already at the door. She took her time walking over to him, eyes lingering on his blank expression. When they'd first started their intimate encounters she'd often wondered what went on inside his head; so many daydreams spent trying to decipher the inner workings of Draco Malfoy's mind. But the longer this continued, the more she found herself adamantly feeling the opposite. She could think of nothing worse than finding out what he really thought of her – what he really felt towards her. She didn't think anything had changed all that dramatically; the sneers and looks of utter disgust continued in public, and she wasn't stupid enough to think he saw her any differently. She had made her peace with that, and it made things a tad easier.

But she couldn't ignore the fact that _she_ saw him on a far more human level, and it unnerved her to no end. He was under an immense amount of strain and pressure – just like herself – and there was no way to escape from it. The war and the responsibilities it was forcing them to carry weighed heavily upon them; it plagued their dreams and their reality and there was no way out. They never talked about it – they didn't need to and they didn't want to. She didn't even know what side he was truly on, and she was hoping it would never get to a point where it mattered – although there was an underlying truth here she was nowhere near ready to acknowledge. But they both needed release; a temporary euphoric bliss that took them miles away from every horrible, awful thing in their lives. The fact that they found it in each other was so ridiculously ludicrous that it actually made things work like a charm. Practical absurdity was what she chose to call it. She had no idea what name he'd give it if she asked.

"I'll go out first. Wait five minutes and walk the long way round."

Now it was his turn to make the unnecessary statement, and she rolled her eyes. It amused her that he felt the need to clarify their exit paths every time, but a glance at his stern expression told her that he needed to say it more than she needed to hear it. In a lot of ways it was another element of normality that he was desperate to cling to. She offered him a wan smile as he gently tugged on a stray curl of her hair – a rare display of _something,_ on his part – before opening the door and silently slipping out into the hallway.

Hermione took a moment to survey the room. The Room of Requirement had proven to be a useful location at their disposal, and she had lost count of the amount of times she had arranged to meet him here. As she glanced back at the bed, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. Her entire day had been spent getting a head start on two extensive assignments, before being interrupted by a distraught Harry whose dreams about Voldermort were becoming more and more sinister. The all-consuming fear for her best friend's life, as well as the constant threat of the unknown, was all she could ever think about, and a quick fumble with Draco Malfoy had taken the edge off perfectly. It hadn't fixed or solved anything had been fixed; everything was still very much a complicated, dangerous mess. But she felt as though her mind had been cleared enough to begin to think rationally.

She took a deep breath and noticed how the room smelt distinctly of _them_. She tried to hold onto it for as long as she could, knowing that it could be days before she was alone with him again. She didn't know when exactly she'd become so dependent on her sworn enemy, and she didn't know how long it would last for. All she could say was that she knew she'd be craving his touch in a matter of hours, and a small part of her knew he'd be just as eager for her.

It was unhealthy. It was dangerous. It was stupid. It could get them both killed.

But as she stepped out of the door and sauntered down the corridor, she knew she wasn't about to give it up for anything.

 **~.:.~**

He could _smell_ her.

Draco was sat at the Slytherin table, half-heartedly picking at his potatoes and glaring down at his plate in an attempt to drown out the nonsensical drabble of Crabbe and Goyle. He could see Pansy's hand inching towards his thigh and he subtly shifted away from her, not having the energy to engage in any sort of contact with another human being – let alone her. His encounter with Granger had ended on a note that had done nothing but piss him off, and any form of calm he'd managed to obtain had quickly disappeared. He had enough to occupy his mind already without the bushy-haired brunette dancing around his mind all the time, and it was beginning to require more and more effort to force her out. It certainly didn't help that he could still smell her on him; it was like she had seeped under his skin and he couldn't get rid of her no matter how hard he scrubbed. If he closed his eyes he knew he'd be able to feel her light touches and the silkiness of her skin.

He stabbed at his food and willed his mind to banish those thoughts before he'd need to shift again to disguise a different sort of problem. He didn't know what to make of her – of them – and it was bothering him to no end. The whole thing was a messy entanglement that he couldn't remember entering into, and certainly couldn't imagine eradicating. He still despised her to no end – her sexual prowess only serving to fuel his hatred towards her, because her appeal made her all the more irritating. She was born inferior to him; he _knew_ that, which he supposed meant he still believed it. But that hadn't stopped him ogling her in Diagon Alley that summer when he'd seen her leafing through a book in Flourish And Blotts. It's not like she'd changed that much from sixth year; as far as he could see at the time the only difference was that she had finally grown into her body – her curves peeking out underneath her jeans and jumper, giving her a slender outline that he couldn't stop looking at. Turns out she hadn't needed much to make herself noticeable. Her hair was less of a mane of frizz and more of an arrangement of soft, albeit unruly, curls, and her face had become more defined – a likely natural reaction to a lack of sleep, regular meals and adulthood.

It was a fleeting moment, one he never thought he'd remember, and yet it seemed to have changed everything for him. Because for the following couple of months that image of her crept into his thoughts often. He chalked it up to fatigue on his part; he was around the same type of girl all the time – high society pureblooded women with high cheek bones and time to kill. He figured he was just intrigued by something different; nothing to worry about.

He looked up as the sound of her laughter reached his ears. She was beaming at Weasley and Potter with such unguarded happiness he couldn't help but scowl. He was so annoyed at yet another reminder of the absurdity of the situation: it should have been enough for him to draw a line in the sand, force her to go back to her normality and enable him to embrace his. Her place was in the middle of those two idiots, _not_ in his bed. And whilst he wasn't exactly sure where his place was, he sure as hell wasn't likely to figure it out with her wrapped around him.

It was only when he snuck a second glance at her that he realised how impossible drawing a line under all of this actually was. Because behind the laughter there was a hardness etched onto her face; the niggling feeling that it was such a temporary bittersweet moment of silliness that would mean nothing to them that night when the nightmares unfolded. She was just as plagued as he was, and knowing that made walking away from it all the more difficult.

Pansy's hand found the upper part of his thigh and he rolled his eyes. For a girl fully aware of the Dark Lord and his impending plans for their futures, she was unnervingly unaffected. He used to envy this about her, and it was the main reason why he'd maintained a physical relationship with her on and off for so long. She looked at the entire situation so two-dimensionally. The future, which filled him with so much confliction, fear and dread, was something so easy to embrace for her he often found himself trying to adopt the same attitude. This came to an abrupt halt, however, when Granger had forced her way into his life. Suddenly, the façade was gone and he couldn't slip back into it no matter how hard he tried.

He saw her again on The Hogwarts Express, patrolling the compartments with Weasley by her side. He was drawn to the fact that she looked exactly as he felt; exhausted, strained – tired of life. He met her eyes and scowled, infuriated by her presence with no real reason as to why. He noted the way her eyes flickered to life for a fleeting second, the anger and indignation clawing inside her to make an appearance. He couldn't help the feeling of pride that bubbled up inside of him; he still enraged her, just as she still enraged him. He hadn't felt that kind of familiarity in so long – it was soothing in an uncomfortable way. After feeling trapped in a robotic rhythm for so long, he couldn't help but want to grasp onto that feeling with every fibre of his being.

It was this primal urge that convinced him that maybe, _just maybe_ , that feeling of familiarity was the key to his own self-preservation. He needed to feel more like himself. And she seemed to be the only thing that could offer him that. It was this urge that spat at him throughout the feast that evening, teasing him with thoughts of peace and momentary salvation. It ripped through him until he found himself infiltrating her route back to Gryffindor tower after she'd finished patrolling with a Ravenclaw prefect, and pulling her into an abandoned classroom. She put up a fair fight – cruel words spilling from her lips and washing over him, fuelling his own scathing retorts until they were both out of breath and exhausted.

He remembered the way that she'd softened her glare and taken the time to really look at him, the intensity of her stare making him feel more unguarded than he had in a long time. He didn't like the way she seemed to be scrutinising him, trying to figure out the meaning behind this alien encounter. He could see the realisation hit her – she wasn't deemed the brightest witch of her age for nothing – and he knew that how she reacted would change their dynamic forever. Because he'd unwillingly revealed a small part of himself – the only part he knew she'd be able to relate to. He hadn't done it for her benefit; it was purely selfish on his part, but also a necessity he couldn't afford to go without.

 _She'd_ been the one to cross the distance between them. _She'd_ kept her eyes locked on his, and the closer she got, the more blatant her desire became. He'd been instantly aroused at the look of sheer want in her eyes. She stopped inches away from him, not allowing herself to take that final step – needing him to confirm she wasn't crazy or alone in this.

 _He'd_ obliged her and lowered his head to kiss her first. It was firm, free of pretence and romance. It wasn't long before he'd taken her face in his hands and their tongues were battling for dominance. Her fingers wove through his hair and she'd moaned the second his hands had swept over her body, pulling her closer so that she could _feel_ exactly how much he wanted this. _He_ was the one who sat her down on top of a desk and tore her knickers off in a fluid motion, his lips never leaving her skin. But _she'd_ been the one to demand more. She gripped him to her and met him thrust for thrust until she was just as spent as he.

 _She'd_ been the one to pull away from him first, a faint blush adorning her skin as she hastened to fix her appearance. That set the tone for the way their encounters ended, and he had been grateful that she didn't expect anything from him. It was embarrassing for them both – although he couldn't fathom the reasoning for this on her behalf – and dressing it up as something it clearly wasn't would not bring them anything but trouble.

 _She_ was the one who sought him out again.

"Meet me in the dungeons right after curfew."

Pansy's voice was barely above a whisper and Draco found himself ripped from his thoughts. He barely spared her a glance as he got up and strode out of the hall, needing to be away from the world. He could feel Granger's eyes follow him for a split second, and whilst he was inherently smug at the knowledge that he was on her mind, the practical half of him knew this wasn't good. The longer this went on, the more impossible it was going to become, and it would get harder to contain.

The truth was though, he could see no end in sight. And at that point in time, he wasn't sure that he wanted there to be one.


	2. Chapter 2: The Softest of Smiles

**A Promise In The Dark**

 **A/N:** **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favourited** **It's certainly inspired me to get these chapters out to you as soon as I can! I'm sorry for the formatting issues the first time I uploaded, but they're all sorted now and there won't be a repeat! I've written most of this in a segment style, and I'll try to make things as clear as possible so that they don't get too confusing! I hope you enjoy this next instalment – let me know what you think!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I own nothing but the plot!**

 **Chapter 2:** **The Softest Of Smiles**

She didn't realise it was possible to come so close to literally melting into a person until her second sexual escapade with Malfoy. Logistically it was remarkably similar to their first time: up against the wall, this time in a cramped closet as opposed to a classroom. Never in her life had she thought she'd be one of _those_ girls – the ones that allowed themselves to be pulled into dark spaces for a quick fumble as opposed to being treated with the dignity of a proper bed. Then again, it was always so much easier to judge others from a detached position. Granted she didn't think she'd allow herself to do this with anyone else – the security of knowing that Malfoy would be even more mortified than she if the truth got out made her feel safe enough to drop her guard…and her knickers. With less space to occupy, she was able to feel every single inch of him pressed up against her, and all thoughts of her next class were lost as she rocked her hips against his.

He'd yanked her knickers down, and she vaguely registered them ending up around her left ankle. He ran his tongue up her neck to her ear, and she'd shivered in delight, not understanding how everything seemed to feel even better than their first time together. He thrust into her quickly, fully aware that every second had to count – they didn't have long. She moaned and pulled him closer to her, angling her head slightly so that their eyes met.

"Harder," she'd practically pleaded.

His eyes darkened, and she'd felt arousal course through her veins as she saw the hunger dance across his features. She couldn't believe how much she wanted him – let alone how much he clearly wanted her. She didn't know what had made her so bold, but she made a mental note to do it again, because she'd never felt so desired in her life.

He complied.

And she never looked back.

 **~.:.~**

"Better out than in…"

Hermione rubbed her hand over Harry's back in soothing circles, her other hand clutching his tightly, whilst Ron – a pale shade of green himself – shot concerned looks at them. They'd decided to spend their Saturday afternoon by the lake; Harry had endured a particularly awful night at the mercy of his disturbing dreams, and being outside in the autumnal sunshine was supposed to inflict a sense of serenity over him. It had worked for a little while; the weather had a cool bite that enveloped the grounds in an enchanting misty glow. Burgundy leaves littered the grass, and the sky was void of any dark clouds. However, recounting the terrifying dream had proven to be far too intense a task, and it wasn't long before he was crouched behind a tree vomiting up his breakfast.

Ron had gagged instantly, and Hermione had predictably rolled her eyes at him in exhasperation. She watched as Harry stumbled back towards them, face grey and so much older than it should have been. It filled her with an overwhelming ripple of grief – she couldn't remember the last time Harry _hadn't_ looked so haunted. She missed his boyish charm and glint of mischief that was so characteristic to him. Would he ever get it back? It bothered her that the world they lived in was so cruel. He sat down beside her and cradled his head in his hands. She automatically shifted closer to him; she was never sure if her affectionate hugs and smiles were of any use anymore, but she couldn't quell the caring instinct inside of her. She didn't miss the way Ron's eyes narrowed slightly, and she invested her energy into biting back a retort. It bothered her to no end that Ron was always looking for a way to prove that there was something more romantic going on between her and Harry; he knew better than anyone how much Harry needed them as friends, and couldn't believe he thought she looked at him in any way other than a brother.

She knew it stemmed from his own feelings towards her, and this confused her even more. She used to think that she had feelings for the red head – in fact, she was pretty certain of it at one point. But she couldn't excuse the fact that he'd taken far too long to notice her, and by the time he had she'd had to endure listening to him prattle on about the attractiveness of a multitude of women. She'd invested all of her energy into the war and Harry, and just as she was piecing herself together, he had decided to give her a second glance. Her pride was wounded – that was undeniable – but it turned out that time had been exactly what the situation needed to diffuse her crush on him completely. Having never conversed on the matter, their friendship had inevitably suffered a little from the awkwardness of it all, but she deduced that it was far better than enduring an emotionally charged conversation that would only end in tears.

"Harry, maybe it's time you spoke to Dumbledore? You can't go on like this-"

"You really think that's going to solve anything?" he snapped, his eyes slicing through her gaze. "Somehow I don't think a lullaby or a confusing riddle leading to no real explanation is going to help."

Hermione bristled at his tone and mentally counted to ten, never ceasing her comforting ministrations. She knew better than to take Harry's jibes seriously; he was so tired and frustrated and she was a very easy target for him because she was the most persistent voice of reason he had. She knew Harry would feel guilty for it and he'd attempt to make it up to her – it was a cyclical pattern they never spoke of but knew inside out. Her thoughts drifted to the clipped tones of another male in her life and almost scoffed at the difference. Harry's outbursts came from a place of turmoil, and she had been placed in the firing line because of their deep platonic bond. Draco Malfoy's vile behaviour towards her came from the depths of a dark pool of hatred and frustration that had been brewing for so long he probably wouldn't know what to do without its existence. She'd be lying if she said his words didn't hurt her, but she'd come to need his unjustifiable hatred – if only just to remind herself that there was a sense of normality somewhere in the world.

"But maybe he can help you figure out a way of living with it? There's got to be some way of blocking him out…"

Hermione graced Ron with a genuine smile as he trailed off, probably becoming unsure of himself with every word he said. _This_ is what she wished he'd be like all the time; a focussed, functional friend not side-tracked by jealousy or immaturity. His place in between them was becoming more vital as tensions ran higher and higher. He had the ability to mediate, and whenever he neutralised the atmosphere she felt less alone than at any other point. However, she knew he hated being in the middle and the role of councillor did not come easy to him – a lot of the time it was just too much effort. Often conflicted, his natural reaction was to make a joke or divert Harry's attention to a game of Quidditch; tactics that worked to relieve Harry's tension, but did absolutely nothing to appease her. It used to bother her to no end, but interestingly her meetings with Malfoy seemed to have quelled this frustration.

"I'll think about it," Harry compromised softly, the weakness in his voice evident. "I just wish this was all over."

"I know," she soothed, a tight smile on her face.

Ron started talking about sleeping potions and Hermione felt her eyes wander across the grounds. When had she stopped appreciating the breath taking surroundings of Hogwarts? It bothered her that she couldn't remember the last time she looked over the beautiful building, or the enchanting woodland surrounding it with an appreciative eye. War most definitely sucked the beauty out of the world – she had never been more certain of something in her life.

She vaguely noticed Malfoy walking past them towards the building, and allowed herself the rare opportunity of a fleeting glance in his direction. He was a few steps ahead of Crabbe and Goyle, and his characteristic sneer was etched in place, although she couldn't help noticing how vacant his eyes seemed. She moved her hand away from Harry's back and discreetly checked the time on her watch. Quarter to three. She looked up again to see his eyes meet hers for the briefest of seconds, and had she not been watching him so intently she would have missed the way his head tipped slightly towards the castle. Her eyes widened a fraction. _Now?_ She looked back at Harry and Ron – both completely engrossed in their conversation – and realised something she never thought she'd admit to herself. She actually _wanted_ to go – and not just because she was in desperate need of release. She was completely and utterly exhausted from everything, and Harry's foreboding dream had unlocked a whole new vault of fear within her she wasn't ready to face. She could feel her body aching for his touch, his tongue, his kiss –

"You alright Hermione? You're all flushed!"

Ron's voice made her snap back to reality. She knew Malfoy was already waiting for her. Her knickers were already getting uncomfortably damp. And she really didn't have enough energy to tackle the serious undertones surrounding Harry's nightmares just yet. She justified herself by asserting that she needed to be as alert, focussed and patient as possible, and _this_ was the only way she could ensure she was.

"I'm fine," she assured as she stood up. "I just remembered I need to finish off my conclusion for Flitwick's essay! I'll see you both later."

She didn't spare them a second glance, and to their credit they didn't even question her. The more nights they spent awake in the common room discussing the war, or alternatively anything to take Harry's mind off of things, the more believable it was becoming that she'd start forgetting snippets of her schoolwork.

 **~.:.~**

 _Draco,_

 _I trust this letter finds you well. Severus informed me of your latest grades; I am pleased to see that our last conversation resonated with you. I understand the first Hogsmeade weekend of the academic year is next Saturday. I expect to see you at the usual place at precisely twelve o'clock. We have important matters to discuss._

 _Father_

 **~.:.~**

He could tell how badly she needed this from the moment she pressed him up against the door of the Room of Requirement the second they'd stepped into it. She'd buried one hand in his hair as her tongue conducted a seductive assault on his mouth, the other hand running appreciatively over his chest. The breathless moans coming from her were making him hard, and he gripped her hips tightly as he brought her closer to him. Something clearly had her tightly wound; he assumed it had something to do with the mothers' meeting he'd seen her having moments ago with Potter and Weasel. Even he had to admit he'd never seen the-boy-who-lived looking so awful. Her hand moved lower, past his belt, skimming his groin, and he thrust into her hand. All thoughts of his impending meeting with his father evaporated as he concentrated on the demanding witch in front of him.

He pushed off of the door and walked her into the room, stopping only when they reached the bed. He lowered her down and gave her one last, lingering kiss before taking a miniscule step away. Her eyes clouded in confusion, but he simply smirked at her, pulling out his wand. With two purposeful flicks her clothes had disappeared and her hands were above her head, wrists magically bound together. Her eyes widened, not in fear, but in surprise – and he momentarily wondered when she'd stopped fearing him. She was far too trusting for her own good; he'd have to deal with that later. He leaned over her, enough so that his clothes just skimmed her bare skin, but not enough to provide any real contact. She squirmed a little and his smirk widened.

"Patience, Granger…I plan on making this last."

She blushed and he kissed his way down her neck, stopping to gently nip, bite and suck wherever he deemed necessary. He liked the thought of leaving his mark on her. He took a nipple into his mouth and revelled in the moans and whimpers it provoked. His hand took care of the other and the brunette was soon writhing underneath him.

"Please….Malfoy…I need…."

He chuckled against her breast and shot her a smouldering look.

"What is it you need, Granger?"

His fingers traced a path down her stomach, and she shivered in delight.

"I need you…."

His tongue followed and he adjusted himself so that he was positioned in between her legs. He dipped one finger inside her experimentally, and she gasped, her eyes rolling back into her head. He started off slow, noting the way he could feel every tingle – he could feel her becoming more and more aroused. He added a second finger and increased his pace, allowing her to slip further into ecstasy. He flicked his tongue against her clit and her legs tightened around him. He was fascinated by all of the noises she was making – couldn't take his eyes off the varying expressions dancing across her face. He never usually had time to pay attention to things like that; it was normally a rushed affair, and he tried not to draw attention to the fact that it was Hermione Granger all over him. Now, however, it seemed to be the only thing he could think about.

She came all over his tongue and fingers, and he lapped it up without a second thought. Her legs gently gave way, and he lifted his head slightly to look up at her. He had every single intention of climbing on top of her and getting exactly what he needed – he'd waited long enough, and he was beginning to get extremely impatient. Her eyes flickered open and bore straight into his own; her gaze was warm, appreciative…and alien to Draco. He began to feel a tad uncomfortable. This was not something that they did, and he found himself almost wishing he'd just resorted to their signature quick fuck dynamic. _Almost._ Because annoyingly, he couldn't quite shake the fact that he liked knowing he'd been able to watch her in such a vulnerable, pleasurable ecstasy. She had been completely at the mercy of his ministrations, and she had enjoyed every single second of it. She hadn't been a virgin when they first had sex – he hadn't asked any questions, but something had told him it wasn't Weasley who she'd lost it to. Nevertheless, he was sure that no one had ever touched her in that way before, and it made him extremely smug.

She softened her gaze and gave him a soft smile. It was so tiny, but it lit up her entire face.

He froze.


	3. Chapter 3: The Un-Repressed Apology

**A Promise In The Dark**

 **A/N:** So on the plus side, this is a much quicker update – and I'm hoping to try and keep it up! But on the down side, this is a shorter chapter! I'm sorry – this was supposed to be a lot longer, but I got a bit carried away and if I'd kept going it would have been far too long. I think this has it's own natural ending and sets the tone for the next set of events quite well, so I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think – I'm still ironing out the last quarter of the plot so any suggestions or opinions would be appreciated

 **Disclaimer:** Once again, I own absolutely nothing but the plot

 **Chapter 3:** **The Un-Repressed Apology**

She knew the smile was a mistake the moment she'd felt it form on her lips. She knew it would freak him out, and as soon as she felt him stiffen she knew she couldn't take it back. However small and however shy it had been, he'd seen it. And she was willing to bet it had terrified the Slytherin out of him. She watched as his face arranged itself into a blank, unreadable expression, and she couldn't help but feel irritated at the lengths he always went to in order to conceal himself. Couldn't he see she was just expressing some sort of gratitude for what he'd just done for her? And given that she knew his body probably better than she knew her own, was it really necessary to keep her at such a firm distance?

Of course it was. Because as frustrated as she felt in that moment, hands still magically bound above her head, body laid bare for his eyes only, she couldn't deny that the thought of letting him into her life – even a fraction – was absolutely terrifying. But she wasn't exactly sure if she was terrified of revealing more of herself on a less sexual level to him, or if it was in fact the change it would bring with it that scared her more. Things were changing all the time, and that was why she needed her dynamic with him to remain the same. He still infuriated her beyond belief, and she was under absolutely no pretence that would suggest he felt any differently towards her. But the more and more intimate they became, the harder it was becoming to draw a line.

She could feel his heart beating, and she found it fascinating that the first smile she ever bestowed upon him had provoked such a reaction. Merlin knew why she'd thought it was a good idea at the time, but in her defence she was in a post-sex haze. She couldn't really be held accountable for anything she did when she was on such an amazing come-down. The reality of the matter was that every meeting they had was always a mutual means to an end. They caught moments whenever they could - and moments were all they ever had. Every single second had to count; they didn't have time to explore each other's bodies in excruciating detail and watch as every stroke or caress evoked a new wave of pleasure in the other. It was safer that way, because further analysis would confirm the she was Hermione Granger, he was Draco Malfoy, and any kind of contact between them was wrong on every possible level.

But for some reason, he'd taken the time to do that for her today. She couldn't tell if it was a deliberate move on his part; if it were a game of probability she knew it was highly unlikely that he'd chosen to see to her pleasure out of the goodness of his heart. Weirdly, the fact that it was likely to have been an unconscious decision was more intriguing to her sensibilities, because it meant that he had gotten pretty good at reading her. He would have been able to see that she needed respite pretty urgently, and had somehow fathomed that a quick fuck wasn't likely to do the trick. Had he always been so observant of her? She was willing to venture a guess that he probably knew her better than she knew him – although she made an effort to be as guarded as possible, she was like an open book compared to him. Not that she couldn't read him at all. The thing with Malfoy was that his mood swings were tumultuous, and she was beginning to see that he had a never-ending list of triggers. She had also learned that somewhere along the way, she had managed to simultaneously become a trigger and a pacifier, and she wasn't sure which she was more uncomfortable with.

"I'm sorry," she squeaked, trying to hide her rose-tinted cheeks, but failing miserably. It really was terribly unfair that she had to suffer the humiliation of this conversation in nothing but her birthday suit.

The look she received from the pureblood wizard above her would have been comical in any other situation. His eyes were wider than she'd ever seen them, and he was looking at her as though she'd sprouted another bushy brown head.

"For what?" he barked incredulously.

She wiggled a little, and he seemed to remember that she was still bound. He stood up and procured his wand, lifting the charm with an effortless flick. She rubbed her wrists in relief; she'd been getting more uncomfortable by the second, and her arms were beginning to go numb.

"For smiling at you. We…we don't really do that…"

She kept her eyes focussed on the ceiling, not making any effort to sit up or reach for her clothes. She could feel his eyes on her, and the thought of being so openly naked in front of him made her blush even deeper. She wasn't embarrassed anymore – it was difficult to be when he made her body feel so incredible every time he was let loose on it. But she didn't think she'd ever get used to the intensity of his stare.

"Granger."

He said her name as if it were a command, and she felt her eyes automatically lift to meet his. He was standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at her, and she realised she was still lying down. She sat up slowly, noticing the way his eyes flickered at her exposed flesh in temptation. _Did he still want her?_ She'd completely forgotten that he hadn't gotten his end of the deal yet. How they'd manage to circle back to that, given the current direction they were heading in, was a mystery to her. Although, from the look on Malfoy's face, it clearly wasn't on his mind.

"If you are going to start apologising for stupid things that don't warrant any sort of an apology, you may as well apologise for starting this whole damn thing to begin with!"

She couldn't help glaring at him in anger, her pride bruised at the insinuation that this entire thing was all her doing. He made it seem as though she was some sex-crazed lunatic that had taken advantage of him somehow. She scoffed at the thought – it was completely ludicrous!

And _then_ she had softened as she replayed his words in her head. What exactly was he saying? Was he suggesting that their…'conjugal visits' so to speak, were not something to be sorry for? Or at least, not something that he was sorry for – hence why she didn't need to be either? Or was this her simply overthinking things like she always did?

"What?"

Draco rolled his eyes at her, bent down and tossed her her clothes.

"You heard me. It was just a smile. I didn't even notice it."

She watched with narrow eyes as he fixed his dishevelled clothes, not quite understanding what was happening. He ran a hand through his hair, and shot her one last look that revealed absolutely nothing.

"Better get dressed Granger. Gormless isn't a look you can pull off, even in your state of undress."

It wasn't until half an hour later that she left. She couldn't shake the feeling that he'd lied to her; he'd definitely noticed the smile – and if it wasn't such a big deal then why hadn't he sought his own release after she'd apologised? This had never happened before, and she wasn't happy about it. What on earth had gotten into him?

 **A/N:** What do you think? I hope you liked it! The next chapter should be up very soon, and there'll be a bit more from Draco's p.o.v. Do you have a preference between them or do you think having a balance is better? Let me know your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4: Far From Over

**A Promise In The Dark**

 **A/N:** **Ok so we're getting closer to the point where things are going to start becoming more complicated for our favourite duo – I'm so excited to share the next few chapters with you! That being said, I'm putting all my attention into trying to ensure that nothing is rushed or overlooked – I want Draco and Hermione to remain as in character as possible. Thank you to everyone who's been following, favouriting and reviewing – it really brightens up my day**

 **Disclaimer:** **I own nothing but the plot**

 **Chapter 4:** **Far From Over**

 _Fucking sorry?_

Draco had lost count of the number of times he had snorted in derision at that thought. Typical Granger. She just couldn't leave things alone - stupid Gryffindor spirit. He was sick and tired of her being responsible for every tumultuous upheaval in his life. She was supposed to be the one thing he had that made his life just that tiny bit easier; in a sick, twisted way, she made it possible for him to have some grip of reality. Or at least some grip of his old self – Merlin only knew what his actual reality was anymore. The dynamic he had with he made the person he was before the war seem more real as opposed to a shadow. They had a good thing going: no commitments, no obligations, no expectations. No smiles and _definitely_ no apologies.

She just had to go and apologise for something he could easily have put to the back of his mind. Now their whole dynamic would change, again, and he really couldn't be bothered to adjust all over again.

He glared down at his Potions essay, not taking in a single word he'd scratched into the parchment, and damned Hermione Granger to the fiery depths of hell. Although, he didn't doubt there was already a suite there with his name on it, and the last thing he needed was her bothering him in the afterlife too.

He'd meant what he'd said to her; if she was going to go around apologising for ridiculous things she may as well claim responsibility for the whole thing. Because she'd paddled them further up shit creek than was necessary and he didn't think they could just bounce back. Smiling at him was a mistake; she'd revealed that she felt comfortable enough with him to do something so normal, so intimate. Even if it was for a moment, the fact that she'd been coming down from an intense orgasm courtesy of himself made it that much more notable. And her shy apology afterwards was clearly a retraction of said gesture, which only served to highlight it even more.

And what made things even worse, was that he'd been sat at his desk obsessing over it for hours, and he still wasn't sure how he felt about the whole damned thing. He needed his wits about him for the impending meeting with his father, and this was not helping matters in any way. It was confusing enough trying to work out what he felt in regards to his father's plans for him – not that it would make a difference if he objected, which he didn't. But the more attacks that were published, and the more buzz that had begun to surround the Dark Lord's next steps towards his final confrontation with Harry Potter, had served to fuel Draco's mind with an overwhelming torrent of nauseating feelings. He wasn't sure if he could live any life other than the one that had been set out for him since his conception. But he also wasn't sure if he could ruthlessly kill on command, or face his professors in battle. It was all a stupid mess that wouldn't go away, and all he wanted to do was forget it. But he hadn't been granted that luxury…thanks to Granger.

He found it easier to refer to her as 'Granger' as opposed to 'Mudblood' at the moment. He supposed it was because he could no longer see her in a way that didn't make his cock stiffen, and he was fine with that for the time being. He still didn't understand how she could trust him with her body; he was her enemy, and she was letting him see her when she was at her most vulnerable. It was the main reason why he'd never let her use her mouth on him – not that she'd offered as of yet, but he saved the thought of that possibility for his morning showers. He had been fascinated by her responses to him, and he loathed himself for it. But he couldn't deny that a tiny, miniscule sliver of himself enjoyed the response he got for taking care of her needs before his own. He was still very frustrated, and he knew he was bound to be wound tighter than he had been in a long time until their next meeting. But it was somewhat gratifying to know that he could elicit such a reaction from a girl so uptight. She was supposed to save her smiles for Weasley and Potter – people she actually liked. He was uncomfortable with her warming to him and knew he'd have to be careful from now on; the last thing he needed was her getting feelings of any sort.

The sensible thing to do would be to break it off right now. That way, there would be no risk of her developing any sort of attachment to him. He could do it cruelly – make her wish she'd never set eyes on him – and never think about it again. He rolled his eyes; as if that was even possible. He couldn't think of a single reason why it wasn't the perfect plan, and yet he knew he'd never actually do it. He had a weakness for her – Malfoys were not supposed to have any kind of weakness, and he was sure that if his father caught wind of it he'd attempt to beat it out of him in an instant. But how could he carry out his inherent duty as a Malfoy without the inner peace that sex with her brought? Sex with Pansy – or any other willing pureblooded witch that came his way – did not offer the same release. In fact, it managed to induce the opposite effect.

He gripped his quill in his hand, took a deep breath, and pulled his essay towards him. On top of everything else, he had to make sure he kept his grades up and at least level with hers. He had no idea how she managed to do it, but she was still very much top of their year and ahead of everyone else. It was nauseatingly impressive. He resigned himself to the fact that he'd have to keep hold of her for the time being, and he'd have to somehow force them back to their old dynamic. She had been fucking with things for too long now, and it was time he took some control back.

Whether she liked it or not.

 **~.:.~**

"I don't understand, why aren't you coming exactly?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the scarlet-haired boy in front of her and gathered all of her patience to keep the angry edge off her tone.

"I'm not coming, Ronald, because I have a mountain of reading to start for all of the final essays we have. We only have a few weeks to complete them, and I for one refuse to leave everything to the last minute! Besides, there'll be another Hogsmeade weekend soon enough."

"Those essays aren't due for ages, Hermione!" Ron retorted, his eyes narrowing into concerned slits. "And only one of them is due before Christmas!"

"Well I happen to want to get a good head start, and this weekend is the perfect time for me to do it considering that you won't be here to bother me!"

Ron glared at her, and Harry coughed uneasily. Hermione shot him a sympathetic glance, before returning her attention to the book propped up on her lap. They were in the Gryffindor common room, sat on the comfortable arm chairs next to the fire. It was lunch time, and they'd taken advantage of the lack of people; it felt like they were being suffocated by their peers all the time lately, and she was glad for the respite. Although, as with most things, it had been short lived thanks to Ron's temper tantrum. He'd been outraged when she'd mentioned not going with them to Hogsmeade, although she had no idea why. He hadn't asked her personally, nor had he given her any indication that he planned on spending time alone with her, so she couldn't understand where his anger was coming from.

"You can't hide behind books and essays forever. You have to tell us the truth sooner or later."

Her eyes snapped up to his and her heart pounded into her chest. His eyes bore into hers knowingly, and for a split second she was convinced he was referring to –

"We know you're worried about everything, Hermione. We are too. But you have to start talking to us about whatever's going on in your head – you're running yourself into the ground and…"

She tuned out Ron's lecture and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Of course he didn't know about Malfoy; she was becoming more and more paranoid and it was beginning to take its toll on her. She knew she was becoming snappier and more reserved; it was her way of avoiding lying to them or adding to the already tangled web of deceit she'd woven for herself. She just didn't know how to stop it, and it was making her feel guiltier and guiltier. The fact that she'd been obsessing over the status of her 'arrangement' with Malfoy instead of thinking about what on earth they were going to do about Harry's nightmares was so wrong. But she just couldn't help it; she couldn't deny that it devastated her to think that he was likely to call the whole thing off, and she didn't know what to do about it. Nothing worked better as an escape than him, and if he decided to walk away from it, she'd be stuck. She could practically feel her sanity seeping away from her, and she didn't want to face the reality of what it would be like without a clear mind.

"You're not even listening to me, are you?"

Ron's voice broke through her thoughts and she blinked, bringing his furious expression into focus.

"Sorry, what?"

He rolled his eyes and Harry put his face in his hands. She sighed heavily.

"Look Ron –"

"Don't bother," he interrupted as he stood up. "Just sort yourself out, because I'm getting sick of talking to a brick wall."

She watched him storm off and flicked her tired eyes to Harry, who was watching her intently.

"I'm sorry Harry," she murmured, although she wasn't entirely sure what she was apologising for. The raven-haired boy seemed equally confused, and he leant forward to take her hand. She appreciated the warmth of his touch, and offered him a small smile.

"Look Hermione, I know you're exhausted. I also happen to know it's my fault, and I really am sorry for that. I…I know Ron's delivery isn't great, but he's just worried about you."

"He doesn't need to worry about me Harry, I'm ok. Why can't he just understand?"

Harry squeezed her hand and she could see him considering how to respond in the most neutral way possible. It had been some time since he'd had to play mediator between them.

"I think he's finding it hard to deal with everything changing – you know what he's like Hermione. You're the one who called him a creature of habit; he doesn't like change, especially when everything's so dangerous and messy. I guess he's just trying to hold on to normality – Hogmeade's a part of that."

Hermione's eyes widened in understanding, and she found herself feeling even worse. She'd gotten so used to dismissing everything Ron did as a result of his apparent feelings towards her, she'd forgotten the fact that, first and foremost, he was her friend. And he was very much in the same boat as her. She'd neglected that massively, and she couldn't help but feel that his outburst was pretty mild – all things considered.

"You're right, Harry" she croaked. "I'll talk to him, I promise."

He smiled at her and let go of her hand, leaning back in his seat and staring blankly into the fire. She allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts; when had everything become so difficult? She knew she had some serious work to put in with Harry and Ron to make things right again, but she also knew she had another situation to fix beforehand. Why on earth did she have to smile at that stupid ferret?

Although, there was the small, significant detail that he had chosen to see to her needs first. Did that mean anything? Was he starting to loathe her a little less? Because she couldn't deny that her feelings of abhorrence towards him had diminished slightly…in the most miniscule of ways. If, and it was an incredibly big if at that, there was a sliver of him that regarded her in neither a sexual or unpleasant light, would it be enough to keep him locked in this arrangement? She found herself hoping it would be – if it even existed at all – and she felt so idiotic for even entertaining the thought.

She had to see him.

And if it was the last time, she'd just have to deal with it.

 **~.:.~**

As it turned out, it was definitely not the last time.

"Malfoy…" she breathed, her breath tickling his temple as her toes curled in appreciation.

In fact, given that this was the second time in half an hour that Draco Malfoy had sunk his length into her and ground their hips together hungrily, passionately, she'd venture a guess to say it was only just the beginning.

She tore at the buttons on his shirt, loosening his tie as she went – trying to commit every delicious sensation to memory. The way he pushed up against her, the way his hands roamed all over her body as if it were their own personal play ground – the way he kissed every exposed stretch of skin as he lost himself in her. She revelled in it all.

She didn't want this to end. In that moment, she knew she'd do everything she could to make sure it didn't slip through her fingers. Because this felt too incredible to give up, and she didn't think there could be anything more effective than this.

He slammed into her over and over again, unrelenting in his pace. She closed her eyes to stop the room from spinning and she felt herself come undone as he spilled into her for the second time that day. She'd have to perform an extra strong contraceptive charm as soon as she was cleaned up to be extra cautious. Draco leaned against her, panting heavily, and she took a minute to lazily study his face. His skin was flawless, and she couldn't help but wonder how he managed to keep it that way. His hair hung loosely across his forehead, and she fought every instinct she had to sweep her fingers across it. His eyes met hers and she felt as though she was drowning in puddles of steel; she'd never met anyone with eyes like his before, and she knew that if he were anyone else – if she was anyone else – she'd want nothing more than to get lost in them. She looked away and he snapped out of whatever post-sex trance he was in, pulling out of her gently and beginning to dress.

"I'll be here this weekend."

Her voice may not have cracked with weakness this time, but it shattered the silence around them sharply. She heard him turn to face her, but she kept her focus on retying her tie. She wasn't sure why she'd told him that; was it an invitation? Was it a warning?

"You aren't going to Hogsmeade?"

Her fingers faltered; she hadn't expected him to respond. She looked up at him and swallowed – her throat always became dry when she had to maintain eye contact with him.

"No," she answered. "Are you?"

"Yes."

Was she overthinking the flash of raw emotion she saw flicker across his face? Relief? She doubted it and cursed herself for looking for things that she didn't really want to be there. Or did she? Draco Malfoy was hardly the lead out of a romance novel, and she genuinely didn't want him to be. But was it wrong of her to sometimes entertain the thought that he felt more than he let on? He wasn't a robot after all – and she knew he was capable of feeling something akin to pleasure, seeing as he repeatedly sought it out from her as often as he could.

"I'll see you when I get back."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. A fact. A demand.

He'd never done that before. Never given her any real indication of when or if they'd meet up again. She always figured it was so he wasn't committed to anything – he'd come back if and when he needed to, but there was never a time attached to it. _What was he doing?_ She'd been so sure he would put an end to everything – he'd been outraged at her constantly changing everything between then, and she'd finally made some sort of peace with it. But if he was saying that he'd see her when he returned from Hogsmeade it meant that things were most definitely not over. She frowned in confusion and he smirked at her.

"Don't frown so much Granger," he said patronisingly. His hand traced a line down the side of her face until he reached her chin. He tilted her head up and he leaned down so that his lips ghosted just above hers. "You'll give yourself wrinkles."

Suffice to say, she spent the rest of the day in yet another obsessive trance. What in Merlin's name had she gotten herself into?


	5. Chapter 5: Tipping The Scale

**A Promise In The Dark**

 **A/N:** **I'm so sorry this wasn't uploaded sooner; I've had a lot going on, but to be honest I just didn't realise how many days had seeped into each other! I hope you're all well and getting into the festive spirit** **I also hope you like this chapter: I'm a little on edge about it because it's very internal, and it ran away with me more than it was supposed to, so I've had to split it into two – the next chapter was supposed to be part of this one but it all got far too long! Let me know what you think, and as I've already written the second half I'll aim to have it up tomorrow. Thank you again for all the reviews, favourites and alerts – it's nice to know people are reading this and enjoying it haha xx**

 **Disclaimer:** **I own nothing but the plot!**

 **Chapter 5:** **Tipping The Scale**

"I trust you have been well, Draco?"

Lucius Malfoy's silkily dark voice was a perfect match for the dulcet tones of the establishment he'd requested to meet his son in. The lighting was dim with occasional flickers whenever the faint breeze assaulted the candlelight, and despite being just after noon, the room was full of shadows. The plush velvet décor, coupled with the elegant drapery, was alluring but stank of stale smoke, and it was making Draco's stomach turn. He felt like he was trapped in some bizarre twilight zone, with no way of keeping track of time or normality. The pub was predominantly empty, and its location down a series of convoluted side streets meant it was often ignored by visitors of Hogsmeade who weren't aware of its existence. To be fair, it was also likely to be avoided like the plague by residents of the village. It wouldn't surprise anyone that Lucius Malfoy had frequented it many a time in his many years, and the amount of times Draco had had to stumble through its stiff back door with his cloak up around his neck, it was beginning to feel like a second residence.

"Can't complain, father."

His reply fell on deaf ears, just as he knew it would – Lucius Malfoy was never one for small talk, and considering that his son was very much alive and in front of him, he wasn't too concerned about the tiny details in between. The older man sipped his fire whiskey, wrinkling his nose at the average taste and scowling in annoyance. Draco couldn't believe how old his father seemed; whilst his general appearance was much the same as it had always been, there were a number of fine lines cracking the smooth exterior of his face. He was sure he'd never want to hear the cause behind each one of the etchings.

"Is mother well?"

"Same as always."

His grip on his own glass of fire whiskey tightened in frustration. There were a lot of things about his father that he had grown to tolerate, but his casual attitude towards his mother was something he couldn't abide. It bothered him to no end that he would never truly know what went on in the Manor when he was at school. His mother's letters were brief and to the point; a herd of Hippogriffs could have stormed across his home's marble floors and he'd never know. But every time he was reunited with her it would always be evident that a lot had transpired in his absence - usually in the negative sense, from the pain in her eyes. Lucius always saw Draco's love for his mother as an immense weakness, but Draco had always found that it was this one connection that gave him enough strength and motivation to keep moving forward. Although, he'd be the first to admit that given that he had no idea what his end goal actually was, most of the time it felt like he was just stumbling about in the dark.

"Preparations for your initiation have begun."

The low murmur in which Lucius spoke was the only indication of the gravity attached to his casual words. His lips were drawn into a thin line, and Draco could see that his father was not addressing the situation lightly. For his part he attempted to appear as interested as he could; he'd known this meeting would be about this to an extent, so surprise was not an emotion provoked. He just didn't have the energy to allow himself to accept the reality of the whole thing just yet. It was a step he always knew he'd have to take, but he wasn't ready for the upheaval it was sure to bring with it in its wake, and he couldn't help but feel that after such a slow build up, everything was suddenly moving way too quickly.

"When will it happen?" he asked, deciding that it was the best inquiry to make.

"Before your exams. We will know more in the New Year."

Draco nodded his understanding but kept his expression as neutral as possible. Merlin only knew how he was going to be able to sit his exams after the ordeal, but he didn't think it was a wise comment to make. He noticed his father's expression darken, and his stomach twisted into a knot. Whatever was behind that expression was not likely to be a comical ice breaker.

"There is something that I must be implicitly clear about, Draco. Something you will do well to remember."

Draco leaned forward, sensing that his father's voice would not raise an octave above a glorified whisper.

"You cannot receive the mark unless it is what you truly want. It is the result of dark, ancient magic, Draco. As it penetrates your skin it will pick up on any shred of doubt you may have. You will have to believe completely in the cause you are choosing to fight for."

Draco listened intently, the words slicing through his soul, leaving behind scorching trails of unease. Once again, he was not surprised. In fact, he'd probably think far less of the Dark Lord if the spell wasn't so complex; though extreme, the promise of unwavering loyalty was too valuable to leave to chance. His unease lay in the horrible, inescapable claim that he would have to believe completely in the madman's vendetta. Not just against Potter, and not just against Mudbloods – like the one he was presently fucking – but also against half of the wizarding world, creatures and humans alike.

He'd been brought up to believe in these ideals. Under any other circumstances he would have had the audacity to scoff at the implication in his father's words that he had some sort of a choice. As though, if he did have any doubts, he would be let off the hook – able to remain neutral and disappear until the entire bloody thing just blew over. No matter how conflicted he felt, there was no way in Salazar's name that he was going to join Potter's band of merry do-gooders. He may have become a lot of things, but he was still very much a Malfoy.

That being said, he didn't know if his initiation would go successfully. The issue wasn't so much killing on demand for him; that would be something he'd learn to grow accustomed to regardless of which side he was on – this was a real war, not a fabrication. After growing up at Malfoy Manor and witnessing his father, and a number of death eaters, in action, Draco was very much of the opinion that death was a far nicer fate that the numerous alternatives the Dark Lord advocated. Torture, abuse, rape; _that_ was where his discomfort lay. That was what he was terrified the magic would uncover. He hated the messiness of it; there was no need to prolong the kill and exercise more evil in the process. He didn't think he'd be able to do anything like that, even if his own life was at risk, and he wasn't sure he wanted to force himself to become that kind of person either.

"You will _not_ let me down."

His eyes met his father's and he internally rolled his eyes at the iciness of Lucius' glare. That man would never trust him to uphold the honour of the Malfoy name…and to be fair, given what he'd been doing in his spare time, he supposed the older man had a point. But he'd never even been given a proper chance to prove himself, and it was a sick, sick irony that becoming a dark, twisted shadow of a monster was the only way to do so.

"I won't."

His voice cracked with the pressure of the lie. How he was going to deal with this was beyond him; there was far too much at stake, and he was shaken to the very core with the reality of the situation. Lucius' eyes narrowed, his face stormy as he stared unwaveringly at his son, a knowing disapproval engulfing on his features.

"I mean it Draco."

He swallowed and prayed his voice remained neutral this time.

"I won't, father."

They both knew he was lying through his teeth.

~.:.~

Dinner was a long affair.

Hermione had spent the majority of her Saturday in her favourite chair at her favourite desk, surrounded by copious dusty old tomes. The silence of the library had been incredibly soothing, and she had relished every single second of it. She found that the most incredible thing about it was not having to explain herself to anyone. She could be completely unguarded and embrace the part of her that was still just a student; amongst the scent of old parchment and musk she was not Harry Potter's muggleborn friend, Ronald Weasley's source of irritation and confusion, or Draco Malfoy's secret shag partner. She was just Hermione Granger. A girl trying to uphold her reputation as the brightest witch of her age by staying on top of her studying.

Truth be told, she hadn't realised how many lies she told on a daily basis until now. Her attention was always demanded in multiple areas at all times, and she could never give herself fully to one cause. Because if she wasn't watching the clock to see if it was time to leave for a class or a meeting with Harry and Ron, she was always keeping one eye open for some sort of signal from Malfoy. If she was found to be off in her own world she had to come up with some sort of explanation to defend her odd behaviour, and if she had to make an abrupt exit she had to come up with a reason she hadn't already exhausted. And if it wasn't that she was constantly having to make sure she appeared as ok and as calm as she continuously insisted she was; Harry and Ron never seemed to believe her, but they went along with the façade for her sake. It was all very tiring. Not to mention unsettling; Hermione had never been one to tell lies before, and she was concerned with how easy it was for her to succumb to the bad habit.

That's why the confines of the library had been such a welcome distraction for her. For a glorious couple of hours, everyone else in the world could be damned whilst she finally got a few precious moments to herself. But, like everything in her life, it was doomed to be short lived.

Her friends had returned from Hogsmeade in foul moods, and she was sat between them at the Gryffindor table trying everything in her power to avoid asking what had happened. Ginny sat beside her, her dinner untouched, shooting reproachful glares at Harry. The raven-haired boy, to his credit, was yet to meet her eyes, choosing instead to cut his steak into as many pieces as possible. Ronald, on the other hand, was glaring at the pair of them, his cheeks red with barely suppressed annoyance.

"So…good day then?"

She should have just kept her mouth shut. All at once, three pairs of eyes turned towards her, and she knew she'd opened a can of worms.

"Not exactly. It was a really nice morning, and it _could_ have been a really nice day. But _Ron_ went and spoilt it by being the insufferable prick he is."

Ginny's tone was laden with anger, and her brother's glare was equally as volatile. Hermione noticed Harry's fingers tense around his cutlery and she sighed. The can of worms was very much open now, and the fall-out was looking to be rather messy.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Ron exploded, causing a few people to turn and look at them. Hermione winced and kicked him underneath the table, but he didn't even glance her way. "What the bloody hell did you expect me to do?"

"Not get involved in something that has absolutely nothing to do with you!" Ginny retorted, her eyes shining dangerously. "You had no right!"

"I have every right when my baby sister is making a pass at my best mate! When are you going to get rid of your ridiculous fantasy and accept it's never going to happen?"

Hermione held her breath. She adored Ron to pieces, but the boy had absolutely no tact whatsoever. Situations with emotional females were not his forte, and it didn't take a Divination enthusiast to predict that he was going to pay for his incompetence. Ginny spluttered in a mixture of shock, fury and hurt, and Hermione could practically feel the static emitting from her.

"IF YOU'D WAITED A SECOND BEFORE MAKING A COLLOSAL IDIOT OF YOURSELF, YOU'D HAVE SEEN HE WAS KISSING ME BACK!"

Harry dropped his utensils and they clattered noisily on his plate. The silence that followed the wake of Ginny's screeching was deafening and humiliating. Hermione watched all three of her friends discreetly, wondering who was going to break first. From where she was sitting, it was obvious that Ron had reacted very badly to something that could have been dealt with in a far more sensitive manner. But then again, when did Ronald Bilius Weasley ever react to anything appropriately? He was one for dramatics and intense bouts of emotion, and she was willing to bet that Harry and Ginny were acutely aware of this. Whatever was going on between them was probably a secret, and they were too wrapped up in their own world to realise that behind Ron's unreasonable outburst, the knowledge of them going to lengths to keep their relations private would be the thing bothering him the most. Ron hated feeling left out and excluded, and this was something he had been trying to ignore for goodness only knew how long.

Because it was very, very obvious how Ginny and Harry felt about each other. To be fair, it was a lot more guarded on Harry's part; he snuck shy glances at her and seemed forever hesitant around her. Ginny was always dropping hints and making suggestive comments in an attempt to get him to react. From multiple conversations with the youngest Weasley, Hermione knew that she was in it for the long haul. Ginny had often said that she'd only ever dreamt of having Harry completely, and giving herself completely to him. She wanted him to confide in her, share every concern, every desire with her. Caught in the middle of two of her friends, Hermione had listened with tightly sealed lips because, ultimately, her loyalty belonged to Harry. He didn't speak of his fears or nightmares or missions with anyone but her and Ron, and whilst she knew Ginny wanted to be there for him, she felt that Harry had the right to confide in whoever he felt comfortable with. More than anything, he wanted to protect Ginny, and this was one of the ways he could do that. And really, a relationship at the moment probably wasn't the best idea given Harry's position. It wasn't ideal for any of them really, and she took a moment to realise how hypocritical she was being, given that she was entangled in a ridiculous situation with Draco Malfoy of all people. Their arrangement was becoming so confusing it was taking up more and more of her time and energy; they may as well be in a relationship given the amount of aggravation it was causing.

She heard Harry clear his throat nervously, and she switched her attention back to the present. In her opinion this whole thing had been brewing for months, and it was extremely unfortunate that it had to come to a head in the middle of such a public dinner. Ron's face was an unpleasant shade of beetroot, and his eyes were rapidly flickering between his sister, who was glowering at him with a mixture of anger and mortification, and best friend, who was trying very hard to appear invisible.

"That's complete bullshit!" Ron finally declared. He turned his accusatory stare to Harry, who finally managed to make eye contact with him. "Tell her Harry!"

Three incredibly long, drawn-out seconds were what it took for Harry to muster up enough courage to respond.

"I…I did kiss her back but –"

"YOU WHAT?"

"Told you!"

"But it was an accident…I didn't mean to…I didn't want to…"

As Harry trailed off the mood around the quartet changed again. The air was still thick with tension, but it was now sombre. Everyone was trying to look at anything else but Ginny, because everyone could empathise with the fact that, between Harry and Ron, they'd utterly humiliated her. To her credit, and in a move that would have made her mother extremely proud, Ginny threw her goblet of pumpkin juice over Harry, grabbed her things, and left the Great Hall with her head held high.

Hermione shook her head in disappointment at the hopeless expressions on her best friends' faces as they gaped at her.

"We'll talk about this later. In _private_."

She ignored all of the eyes on her as she hurried after the younger girl, looking up only to meet a familiar pair of grey eyes from across the hall. She shot him a helpless glance, not knowing if she'd be able to meet him after all, and tried to make her legs move faster.

She could practically feel his eyes darken as she made it through the antique doors.

 **A/N: What do you think? I don't know why I'm so on edge about this chapter, but I really hope you like it. It was fun to write Lucius, and I'm trying to give as much depth to the social context Draco and Hermione as I can. Look out for the next chapter, and Happy 1** **st** **December xx**


	6. Chapter 6:The Line Begging To Be Crossed

**Promise in the Dark**

 **A/N:** **Quickest update ever…even if it did take longer than I initially thought! Thank you for the reviews, favourites and follows; I was really concerned about the last chapter, but I'm glad you guys seemed to like it! Hope you enjoy this – there's actual Draco/Hermione interaction!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I own nothing but the plot!**

 **Chapter Six:** **The Line Begging To Be Crossed**

Hermione was completely and utterly fed up.

After chasing Ginny all the way back to the girls' dormitories in Gryffindor tower, she had stood in a corner of the room, desperately trying to blend into the wallpaper, as the younger Weasley succumbed to her family's infamous temper. Insults, various explicit versions of 'I hate men', and screams of frustration were repeated on a continuous loop, and she had felt extremely sorry for the duck feather pillow that was bearing the brunt of Ginny's anger as she pummelled her fist into it over and over again. It had taken a good half hour, but she'd eventually exhausted herself into calming down, and Hermione had felt safe enough to peel herself off the wall and approach her. It had torn at her heart as the redhead looked up at her with wide, teary eyes and an expression of emptiness.

" _I really, really thought he liked me, Hermione…He said he had feelings for me…how could he do that?"_

Hermione had released a long-suffering sigh; she'd given up trying to make sense of why Harry did the things he did, but that didn't mean she wasn't expected to defend him. Ever since the day she met him on the Hogwarts Express she'd found herself flummoxed at least once a day by something he did that evidently made next to no sense; that day she hadn't been able to figure out why he hadn't repaired his spectacles sooner. In that moment, she couldn't understand why Harry hadn't admitted his feelings for Ginny, or at the very least acted in a more non-committal manner. Because regardless of how apprehensive he was about Ron, surely he should have known that making it seem like he wasn't particularly bothered about Ginny either way was even worse? It had taken every ounce of energy and self-control she possessed to not tell her that she was almost certain Harry had been lying. That his stupidity had been the result of a panicked attempt to not make the whole thing worse. As much as she knew it was probably what Ginny needed to hear, she didn't want to give her any false hope – this wasn't her situation to fix, and she couldn't just put words in Harry's mouth. She had no idea what his intentions were, and the last thing Ginny needed to do was latch on to the wrong end of the stick and get beaten to death with it.

So instead she had tried her best to console with hugs, boy bashing and the promise of indulging in all things sweet and sinful at the first opportunity they got. Ginny had responded with a grateful smile before deciding to try and get some sleep, and Hermione had retreated back down to the common room to deal with the more difficult task of getting her two best friends to understand the gravity of the situation. She'd glanced at her watch and bitten back the disappointment at the likelihood that she would not be relieving some of the stress she was under that night. As ridiculous as it seemed, a fumble with Malfoy was exactly what she needed right now. Something flickered inside her, making her a tad uneasy, and she tried to push it aside the moment she recognised what it was. She was disappointed at the prospect of not seeing Malfoy because, in the frankest of terms, she needed the sex. No other reason. It was irrational of her to want to see _him_ for any other reason. She didn't even know him as a person. She furrowed her brow and felt her headache get a tad stronger. If she could help it, there'd be no more flickers of anything. It had been a long evening, and that was all this was.

She studied the room at the foot of the staircase, but couldn't see the familiar flash of red or dishevelled black hair anywhere. Wondering where they could be, she asked Seamus if he'd seen them, and he mumbled something about them hitting bludgeons over on the Quidditch Pitch. At least, that's what she thought he said. He wasn't particularly keen on Hermione mithering him during his game of Wizard's Chess with Dean; the stakes were pretty high and she wasn't throwing his concentration off.

Seeing as they weren't here, and given that she'd already seen to Ginny, and knowing that she was on top of her assignments, she couldn't see any reason not to see if there was a blond wizard with grey orbs waiting for her on the fifth floor.

And there was absolutely no flicker of excitement accompanying her hurried footsteps or mischievous smile.

 **~.:.~**

He knew she'd come.

For a moment he didn't think she'd manage to get away; he assumed she'd use the embarrassing spectacle at dinner as an excuse to not meet him. And to be fair, a few weeks ago he wouldn't have been that bothered; in fact, he'd probably have been irritated at her for making the effort. But it was a very different story now, and he couldn't ignore the fact that he was extremely annoyed when he thought that she would cancel or just not turn up. There was no denying that they both needed this, and seeking a way to avoid it was no longer an option. For as long as it was supposed to continue, they were both in it together, and that was that.

The ironic and sickeningly hilarious thing was that his _affiliation_ with Granger was turning out to be the most successful relationship he'd ever had. And worse still, he didn't think it was because of the sex. He put it all down to the fact that they never really talked. In his opinion, that was where it always went to hell, and it would undoubtedly be even worse given that he and Granger were like fire and ice. Because in reality, he and Granger barely exchanged words. He didn't think they'd ever had a proper conversation – a cacophony of insults didn't exactly count. He knew he was incredibly skilled at reading people, and to her credit, she was good at working with assumptions, implications and connotations, so he gathered that that was probably how they'd made it so far. Merlin knew how long they'd be able to pull it off, and he wasn't looking forward to that particularly branch snapping.

Not that he actually _wanted_ to talk to the bushy-haired witch. Whenever she launched into one of her lectures in classes, droning on and on in her all-knowing monotone, he could feel a part of him wishing to be Avada'd on the spot. Recently, and much to his chagrin, it was at the height of her laborious explanations that a certain traitorous part of his anatomy would start twitching. The more passionate she became, the harder he got, and it was exhausting. He was overwhelmed with the desire to shut her up in a rather enjoyable way, and he could barely control himself in a one hour period, let alone in his free time. Not to mention the fact that if they actually spoke to each other she'd probably ask him a million questions and try to get inside his head. Then there'd be no avoiding the more serious matters; the war, the side he would fight for, the inevitable end of what had been transpiring between them. With conversations came yet more change, and he would be damned if any more madness would unfold at that point in time.

However, as he pulled up her skirt, bent her over a desk, and shoved her knickers down her legs, he found himself realising that it wouldn't be the most awful, horrendous, disgraceful thing in the world if he did speak to her – from time to time. He rather liked the sound of her voice as it was in that moment; the husky moan she emitted as he thrust into her roughly, the syllables forming his name in a perfect octave. He felt himself growing even harder inside her, and he exhaled into her ear. She shivered. He tightened his hold on her, trying to get as close to her as he physically could.

This was exactly what he needed. What he had been needing since the dire meeting with his father. The inescapable quandary of how he was going to be able to successfully take the Dark Mark would still be there in the morning, but fucking the problem away to the shadowy recesses of his mind suited him just fine now.

" _Harder, please….so close….fuck!"_

He smirked. And after that disastrous dinner, she was even more responsive than normal. Her hands had clawed at him, tearing his shirt open in a flurry of movement. He had to admit, he liked knowing she wanted him that badly – if only Potter and Weasley could see her now! He increased his pace, thrusting into her quickly, and moving one finger around her clit in an expert rhythm. Just as she tightened, he stopped, running his tongue from the crook of her neck up to her ear.

"How close are you, Granger?"

She wiggled against him impatiently, not entirely appreciating his stalling.

"Ridiculously!"

He pressed his hips against her and bit her earlobe.

"What do you need?"

She was making incoherent noises in a desperate attempt to articulate her distress. He smirked proudly; he was thoroughly enjoying this, and he was revelling in the way she was grinding herself against him. She was so desperate to have him thrust into her again he doubted she even knew what she was doing.

"Speak up Granger!"

"I need you to move, Malfoy!" she snapped. "Stop teasing me this instant!"

He chuckled and ran a hand over her arse, considering briefly why it had taken so long for him to discover it in the first place.

"All you have to do is say please…"

"Please Malfoy!"

He leant back slowly, his dick moving out of her inch by inch, before he stopped just as it sat at her entrance. One more move and it would be out of her completely. She growled in frustration and he felt his smirk widen.

"Say my name, Granger. Ask me properly."

He knew it would kill her. He wouldn't normally insist on her doing anything of the sort; first names were far too personal, and it was a dynamic he didn't particularly want with her. But the issue he was having was that every time she said his surname, the memories of his earlier conversation with his father kept floating into the forefront of his mind. It was counter-productive, and he needed it to stop. He could practically feel the annoyance radiating off of her, and after a very long, pregnant pause, he thought that was it. Her stubborn nature had finally gotten the better of her, and she would extract herself from him, fix herself up, and leave him there in a most undignified position.

But then she did something that completely surprised him.

"Please _Draco_ , I need you to fuck me."

The witch had only gone and complied.

And the worst part was that his name sounded so fucking good rolling off her tongue like that. She didn't say it sarcastically. She didn't scream it out just for the sake of saying it. It was as if she'd genuinely breathed it of her own violation; he almost forgot asking her to say it.

His approval was evident, and he'd been relentless in fucking them both into blissful oblivion. It wasn't long before he was collapsing on top of her in exhaustion, completely spent. She gave a contented sigh as he slipped out of her, and he had to admit that he did feel pretty good.

That was, until she'd started talking a few moments later.

"Why did you want me to say your name?"

 _Was there ever a time she wasn't asking a question?_

"I just felt like hearing you say it," he responded as evenly as he could manage without snapping at her. He didn't know why she irked him as much as she did, but it was things like this that caused him to regard her as the most exasperating person on the planet. It was bad enough that he'd enjoyed hearing her say his name and was currently contemplating how to make it a regular thing, but now she was going to dissect it in infinite detail as though it was some sort of Arithmancy equation. He was instantly reminded of why he made it so they barely spoke to each other.

"So if I asked you to call me Hermione you would?"

He gave her a long, studious stare. He didn't like how her tone had lifted at the end of the question, as if she was holding out a fraction of hope. This wasn't a good idea.

"No."

"Why not?"

He almost laughed at her indignant expression; completely and utterly affronted at the implication that her name was hideous to him, but he choked it down and unconsciously his features settled into a half smile.

"You'll always be Granger to me."

 **~.:.~**

She returned to the common room in much higher spirits, her headache a distant memory, and her mind in a far more peaceful state. She'd planned on going to bed, given that it was past eleven, but as soon as she entered she spotted Harry and Ron by the fire and knew the night wasn't over. They looked up as she entered and she sat across from them, an expectant look on her face. Harry's eyes fell on the fire as it cracked and hissed, whilst Ron simply gave her a blank expression.

"Well?" she said impatiently, not in the mood for another difficult conversation.

"Well _what_?"

She blinked at Ron's cold tone and frowned.

"Well _Ron_ , do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Not particularly."

Hermione fought the urge to stamp her foot at Ron's blatant immaturity. He was pretending to inspect his fingernails in an attempt to avoid eye contact with her, and she felt the frustration bubble inside her. Harry was still staring determinedly at the flames, his eyes distracted as though he was mentally a million miles away. She had never envied him more.

"What on earth is your problem?" she demanded, her hands finding their way to her hips. "You're being ridiculous! I haven't even done anything!"

" _I'm_ ridiculous?" he spluttered. "They're the ones who were kissing!"

"Yes, and making such a spectacle at dinner certainly didn't help matters did it?" she retorted, her eyes wide in indignation.

"They refused to say anything the whole way home! I had a right to know –"

"You do not have the right to make your sister cry, Ronald Weasley, and I should hex you for not going up there and apologising to her sooner!"

At her words, Harry turned to face her with a concerned expression. He opened his mouth to say something, but apparently couldn't find the words, because he closed it almost immediately after.

"She's ok right now," Hermione told him, wanting to shake Harry for being so passive. "She's trying to get some sleep."

"Oh well that's good for her isn't it?" Ron bit out coldly. "I'm glad one of us will be getting some shut eye tonight! I can't close my eyes without seeing the two of them going at it!"

Harry's cheeks reddened, but Hermione could see he was getting irritated with Ron too now, and wasn't just embarrassed.

"I already explained this to you. Nothing is going on with me and Ginny – she misread some signals and kissed me. I was surprised and kissed her back by accident. We both regret it – end of story."

It sounded rehearsed. Strained. False. Hermione was sure Ron could hear it too; Harry had a creepy ability to be a pretty fantastic liar, but he wasn't using his skills now, and she could see right through it.

"Until it happens again," Ron mumbled grumpily.

"If it happens again it will still be none of your damn business!"

Ron's face turned scarlet and he jumped out of his chair, glaring icily at Hermione.

"Why the hell are you taking his side?"

And there it was; it always came down to the same old argument with Ron. Any time there was a disagreement, and especially if he was in the wrong, he would accuse her of aligning herself with Harry. He knew it would frustrate her, but he also knew it would hurt her because she spent so much of her time trying to appear neutral.

" _Don't_ start this again."

It was a strong warning, and anyone else would have heeded it. But Ron wasn't like everyone else, and her tone only increased his desire to retort.

"This is how it always is with you! Always taking his side because Merlin forbid Harry Potter's to blame for anything!"

"That's not what I'm saying and you know it!" Hermione snapped, no longer interested in trying to placate the redheaded boy towering over her. "Now is not the time for this! We have a thousand more important things to be concentrating on and us turning against each other won't help anything!"

Ron's glare softened slightly, but it was obvious he wasn't about to drop the argument. Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to keep her voice as controlled as possible.

"Why don't you go to bed and we can all talk about this in the morning? I think time to cool off is exactly what we all need."

Unsurprisingly, Ron didn't have to be told twice, and without a backwards glance at either of them he stalked off. Harry shot her a half smile as she took the opportunity to sit in the newly-vacated chair.

"I don't know how you got to be so good at getting him to do as he's told, but I'm ridiculously grateful!"

Hermione spared him a dry laugh before giving him a knowing look.

"What?"

"You know what."

"I don't know what you want me to say," he sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"But it has, and you need to sort this out before it gets worse."

She was using her best reasoning tone, and she knew Harry was too tired to argue or try and keep up his stupidly transparent pretence.

"I do like her….and I know I've been an idiot today. But, I really don't think kissing her back was a good idea. My life is messy enough right now, and I've been trying to keep Ginny at a distance…I don't want her in more danger than necessary."

Hermione nodded in understanding, glad to see that Harry hadn't completely lost his mind and was still capable of thinking logically.

"I get that Harry, but you have to tell her the truth. It's better than her hating you and Ron pursuing this insane vendetta!"

"I know…I'll talk to her tomorrow."

He stood up to go to bed and she followed suit, that niggling headache pushing its way to the surface again.

"Did anything else happen in Hogsmeade?" she asked before he disappeared into the boy's dormitory.

"Not really," he said as he tried to remember the rest of the day. "Oh, we did see Lucius Malfoy though. He hasn't gotten any less creepy."

" _Lucius Malfoy_?" Hermione repeated, her mind going into overdrive. "What was he doing? Who was he with? Why do you think he was there?"

Harry eyed her carefully, his brow quirked in confusion.

"How should I know? It's not like I could ask him – we're not exactly on friendly terms. Why are you so interested?"

Hermione blushed and cursed her complete lack of subtlety.

"Just asking; it can't be a coincidence that he decided to be there on the first weekend we're allowed to visit. Do you think he's up to anything?"

"Probably consorting with his devil-spawn," Harry said flippantly. "Look, Hermione I'm really tired and it's been a long day. Let's just get some sleep and deal with all of this in the morning. I can't start thinking about what he was up to right now…"

Hermione nodded and bid him goodnight, though she knew she wouldn't sleep very much at all. Had Draco seen him? Had he known his father would be there? She dreaded to think of the sort of business Lucius Malfoy could have been attending to, and her blood curdled at the thought of Draco Malfoy's involvement in it. It bothered her that she couldn't just ask him, knowing how he'd react. But then again, why couldn't she? She had a right to know if he was up to something that would potentially harm Harry…and Draco had been a little less dragon-like recently. Not that she knew what that even meant anymore. Regardless of how intimate she was with him, and regardless of how an annoying, miniscule part of her was warming to him, his family affairs were definitely not her business.

But how would she be able to face Harry if something happened and she could have been able to stop it? Or at least warn him? She'd gotten this far by deluding herself into thinking that it didn't matter what side he was on, because by the time it would actually matter they would have stopped being a thing. But that clearly wasn't the case anymore. She had a lot of thinking to do, and not very much time to devote to it.

It was going to be a very, very long night.


	7. Chapter 7: The Burn of Promiscuity

**A/N:** **Thank you for all the favourites, alerts and reviews – it's nice to know people are actually reading this haha** **The end of this chapter is something I'm so pleased to finally have gotten to – not so much because of the fall-out, but mainly because it means we're getting to the next stage of the drama! Hope you like it – I can't wait to hear what you think!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I own nothing but the plot!**

 **Chapter Seven:** **The Burn of Promiscuity**

His movements were quick, calculated and purposeful. He kept his mouth on hers, revelling in the softness of her lips and the demanding twirling of her tongue, but his hands did not cease in their exploration of her body, discarding underwear swiftly and effortlessly. She moaned in his mouth and moved to trail kisses down his neck, but he buried his left hand in her hair, keeping her lips locked on his. He'd never kissed her for this long before, and he wasn't exactly sure what the sudden fixation was all about, but he couldn't help himself. He hadn't slept a wink, and he didn't think he was going to be able to get through the day without this. From the moment she'd stumbled into the room after him he'd felt the strongest desire to just kiss her, and it was yet to break.

She was cupping him through his boxers and doing delicious things with her fingers, teasing him to the point of insanity. He growled appreciatively and pushed against her with practiced ease. A flurry of movement and five precious seconds later, he was buried deep inside her, caught up in the most heavenly of sensations. She rocked her hips against his and he noted that he could literally feel her heartbeat coursing through her body. It was ridiculous how connected he had become to someone he still maintained he couldn't stand. He felt her grip him tightly and he wondered if there could ever be anything that felt this good. He couldn't remember the point where he'd stopped associating this with something sordid and wrong, and he wasn't exactly sure he was comfortable with seeing it in any other light. But he couldn't stop seeking more from her – a way to be closer to her, a way to make this intense feeling last just a little bit longer. He was already in the habit of committing every single sound she made to memory, but the longer this went on the less he understood why he continued to do it.

He had no idea what he'd eventually have to resort to in order to rid his system of the witch. It still amazed him that she made it so seamlessly easy for him to temporarily fuck his problems away, but no amount of sex with Pansy – or one of the other girls who caught his eye every so often – had managed to get her off his mind. He was beginning to question whether it was even possible; he didn't want those girls in the same way, and he supposed it was because there was no forbidden thrill there. He could justify liaising with any other female in existence, but no amount of words or excuses would ever make this right. And given that every passing day seemed to bring with it yet another predicament he had no actual say in, he rather liked knowing he could still rebel.

And if it managed to give Lucius Malfoy a heart attack in the process, so be it. It would give him a merciful few days left on earth before he was Avada'd straight into a mahogany coffin.

 **~.:.~**

"Harry said he saw your father in Hogsmeade."

She'd thought it over in excruciating detail until her brain ached and her eyes stung. She knew she'd be crossing a line that she'd resolved never to acknowledge let alone overstep, but she also knew she'd never be able to forgive herself if something were to happen to Harry. Lucius Malfoy could very well have been in Hogsmeade for any number of reasons, and whilst she was sure he wasn't there just to bond over a hearty meal and a bottle of Ogdens Finest with his son, she didn't want to take any kind of risk. Her paranoia was creeping up on her again and the guilt she was feeling had reached its highest peak thus far. She needed some sort of good to come out of this thing with Malfoy because otherwise it would stand in history as the most foolish, self-indulgent and dangerous act ever committed, and at least if she tried to find something out it wouldn't all be for nothing.

Of course, the problem lay in the fact that the nature of their connection was purely sexual. They didn't part take in meaningful conversations…or any real exchange of words at all for that matter. There was no subtle way of going about this, and she decided that the direct approach would be the best; if she tried to go about it in any other way he'd get the impression that she was snooping or up to something manipulative, and that would undoubtedly go down like a lead balloon.

His back was to her, and she saw his muscles tense as soon as the words left her mouth. He really did have an amazing physique; Quidditch training had worked its magic on him, and she could feel her fingers itching to trace every single one of them in spite of the situation. There was an incredibly selfish part of her that was screaming in annoyance. She'd already almost ruined everything with a damned smile, and now she was saying more words that would only push him further to his limit. The trouble was that this time it was all completely irreversible. They'd avoided it for as long as they could, but the reality was that her best friend's life was in danger – _her_ life was in danger – and his father was closely aligned with the very nucleus of the threat. She could no longer convince herself that his stance on the whole thing didn't matter, and even though she was far from ready to relinquish their little arrangement, she knew that she had to keep some sort of perspective.

"Did…did you have to see him?"

Her voice was the smallest it had been in a while, but she knew he could hear every word.

"Why do you care?"

The silence that followed his question was deafening. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the ground to just swallow her up and rescue her from the whole thing – the situation, the war, herself. It was all the same to her now.

" _Why_ do you care, Granger?"

She reluctantly opened her eyes to see that he had turned to face her with cold, narrow eyes. She swallowed thickly and he took three purposeful steps towards her until they were almost nose to nose.

"Cat got your tongue? Funny, you were so _eager_ to talk a moment ago."

He was goading her. Provoking her into a fight. Because there was no other way for them to discuss things like this; anything else would be too intimate, too alien. A fight was familiar and it was normal. She recognised the dangerous glint in his eyes and tried to douse out the fire raging inside her at his audacity. If she gave in and engaged with his immaturity she'd only be making the whole thing worse.

"I…I don't know," she said quietly. "But I do and I can't help it."

His face was emotionless, and she could feel panic seep through her. Why was he always so emotionless? At least with Harry and Ron she could read the signs and figure out how they were feeling, but he was just such a closed book. It made her appreciate being able to see him come undone whenever they were intimate, and she felt oddly special.

"I just don't want anything to happen to Harry…or anyone…I heard he was there and –"

Her unnecessary explanation was cut short by him gripping her arms tightly enough to leave angry red marks in their wake.

"Touching as your nauseating concern for Potter's worthless life is," he hissed menacingly, "you will do well to remember that my father is _none_ of your damn business."

He was angrier than she'd ever seen him and the iciness in his demeanour unsettled her to a whole other level. However, she knew that a part of it had to be his possessive nature rearing its ugly head – he'd picked up on her mentioning Harry and chosen to lead with that as opposed to anything else. This was exactly why this whole thing was twisted and spiralling out of control; of course he'd always had this rivalry with Harry, but it was testosterone-fuelled and related to all things masculine. She was never a part of it before, and it had to stay that way. It was bad enough that she'd picked up on it and wasn't completely outraged by the childishness of his medieval, primal nature.

"Look Malfoy…I really think we need to talk about all of this…properly."

It wasn't her best effort – for Merlin's sake it was delivered in a breathless squeak – but it was a genuine offer.

"Do you now? You think it's time we had a little heart to heart about all the shagging we seem to be doing and the wider implications that go along with it?"

Between his sarcastic tone, venomous scowl and the tightening of his fingers, she realised that her effort was a complete and utter waste.

"Malfoy, stop being such a prick about this!" she exclaimed. "You can't deny that it's about time we actually spoke to each other! This is not _normal_!"

He chuckled darkly and under any other circumstances she would have found it extremely attractive. Given the present situation however, she found it incredibly surreal. She could almost see the cogs turning in his head, and she didn't think anything good could come out of this.

"So now you're looking for normal?" his voice was mocking and she was losing her patience. "How very _Gryffindor_ of you to finally say what's on your mind; brave I'll admit, but so, so idiotic."

"Shut up, Malfoy! I'm trying to fix this mess before it gets worse –"

"No, you're trying to fix your stupid conscience!" he retorted coldly. "And it's the most pitiful attempt I've ever seen!"

"At least I have a conscience – I'm curious Malfoy, did yours die over time or were you just born without one?"

He slammed her against the wall, hard enough to shock her but not hard enough for it to actually hurt, and pressed himself up against her. His breath tickled her face and she shivered despite the fear coursing through her.

"Listen here Granger," he growled nastily, "and pay close attention because I will not be saying this to you again. I know you're an insufferable, infuriating know-it-all bereft of even a morsel of self-control, but my father is absolutely none of your business. I may choose to fuck you, but don't think for one minute that I am any of your business either. Keep your nose out of things you don't understand, or mark my words I will make you wish you'd never come back this year."

She shuddered and held in her breath until he'd left and slammed the door behind him. She sunk down to the floor and felt sick to the stomach. She was going to lose her mind if this continued any longer and, after the performance he'd just put on, she doubted Draco Malfoy would care anyway.

 **~.:.~**

Skin.

Bones.

Veins.

Blood.

Untainted and unmarked.

That was exactly how he wanted to keep his arm, and he just couldn't convince himself otherwise. If it was just a tattoo it wouldn't be such a big deal, but he doubted he'd ever be able to get used to the slithering and the glowing and the prickly burn that came along with it. His father's words had been on a loop in his mind since his disastrous rendezvous with Granger earlier; he had substituted thoughts of their interaction with the dilemma of his induction, and the only other thing he could use as an escape now was school work.

Not that he was doing any. He scoffed at how depressing his day had turned out to be. Here he was literally letting his life slip by while everyone else was at lunch, just staring at the expanse of unmarked skin on his left forearm, becoming more and more agitated with every passing second. What was happening to him? Why couldn't he just get a grip on the whole thing?

Of course, it was all Hermione Granger's fault. She just couldn't let him have one moment's peace. He didn't feel an ounce of guilt over what had happened with her – she deserved it. She had to realise that he wasn't one of her little happy-go-lucky friends who had this heart of gold. His family was dangerous, and he had every reason to cause her immense pain and suffering. She never knew what was good for her – if it wasn't charging into one of Potter's suicide missions head first, it was getting involved with him; a man whose family would kill her without a second glance and think nothing of it.

Annoyingly, he knew she'd been right about them having to talk about it all. They'd been playing with fire for too long now and if they didn't have some sort of a conversation they were going to get burned. But he wasn't about to let her just call the shots and walk away when she felt like it. Not only was it not her decision to make, but it was a move he was not ready for. Although, he had never been more aware of the need to think of a plan quickly, because it would not be a good idea for her to start asking questions. If this thing didn't explode in their faces in the next few days, it was definitely going to the moment she found out about his induction.

Thinking was making his head hurt. It was monotonous and mundane and all he seemed to actually do. He was sick of it. He was literally back to square one, looking for something impulsive and reckless and completely irresponsible. He glanced around the Slytherin common room, noticing Pansy had just come down the stairs from the girls' dormitories. How incredibly _convenient_. She smirked at him and ran a hand through her hair, her eyes darkening with lust. There was a tiny voice in his head that was screaming some kind of warning, but after the day he'd had he took immense pleasure in ignoring it. He took her by the hand and led her out of the dungeons, with just one thing on his mind.

Hell or high water he was going to get some sort of peace tonight. Even if he'd have to close his eyes and picture an infuriating bookworm in the process.

 **~.:.~**

"I'm just saying, I think she has a serious problem!"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief at Ron's ridiculous tirade, her arms laden with her textbooks and her mind trying to think of anything but Draco Malfoy and his terrifying glare. As they walked the familiar route to the greenhouses she was soothed by the thought of not having to deal with the Slytherins that afternoon. As much as she just wanted to lock herself away and hide from the whole world, the Ravenclaws were much better companions. She was looking forward to having some respite from the whole Malfoy saga...even if it was immediately substituted with the woeful situation between her best friends.

"Ginny is not losing her mind Ron! Stop making things up to make yourself feel better!"

Ron's latest theory was that Ginny was slowly going crazy. If there was one thing Ronald Weasley excelled at better than most, it was burying his head in the sand when it came to uncomfortable situations. And this was the only way he could cope with the fact that maybe, just maybe, his baby sister and best friend had genuine feelings for each other.

"I'm not making anything up!" he insisted sincerely. "Bloody mental she is! She can't go around jumping blokes like that – she'll end up getting a reputation!"

"Oh for heaven's sake Ron! I swear if you devoted half of your energy into studying you'd be getting far better grades and…Harry…what are you doing? We're going to be late!"

Her tirade was cut short by noticing that instead of walking next to her, Harry had fallen behind and was staring suspiciously at the closed door of one of the many broom closets scattered around the castle.

"Harry"?

"I swear I just heard something…"

She and Ron approached the door cautiously, unsure of what Harry could have heard.

"I don't hear anything mate," Ron said after a moment. "Let's just –"

The sound of a toppled broomstick caused him to stop mid-sentence and Harry wasted no time in wrenching the door open.

When she recalled the moment later that night, she'd find herself unable to remember exactly what happened as she saw Malfoy and Pansy stumble out of the tiny closet. They were extremely dishevelled and quite clearly in the middle of something – Pansy's knickers were literally clenched in Draco's hand. To her credit, Parkinson had the temerity to look embarrassed for a total of three seconds, before her face contorted into outrage.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Us? We're not the ones shagging in enclosed spaces!"

"Jealous Weasley?"

The argument was completely lost on her. The only thing she felt was the clenching of her stomach and the nausea coursing through her. Her head began to spin and she fought against her instinct to grab something to steady herself. She happened to grab Harry's arm and he looked at her questioningly. She also felt another pair of eyes on her, and it took every ounce of self-respect she had to not raise her eyes and meet his gaze. She would not allow him to humiliate her anymore.

"I suggest you get the hell out of here before I go straight to the headmaster and report you," she said in the coldest tone she could muster. "You know I will."

Parkinson glared at her but had enough sense to know not to call Hermione's bluff. She screeched angrily and grabbed Draco's arm, pulling him along with her.

Hermione didn't even look up to see him go. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. She did however have to excuse herself ten minutes into her lesson to throw up as the reality of the situation hit her.

Draco Malfoy had proved just how slimy he actually was. And he'd finally managed to make her snap.


	8. Chapter 8: Ramifications

**A/N:** **I'm so glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter** **Thank you for all of the reviews, favourites and likes! Let me know what you think about this one – it's a bit intense but it sort of has to get worse before it gets better! Let me know your thoughts!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I own nothing but the plot!**

 **Chapter Eight:** **Ramifications**

He hated her.

Not just childish, immature, elaborate hate either. No, he was well and truly past that. The blaze of feeling coursing through him now was raw, intense and unapologetic. It was hate in its purest, truest form. Every single thing about her angered him; her far too expressive face, her unruly excuse of a bush for hair, her annoying voice that was delivered in the most irritating of tones. Even the way she _breathed_. Every last little detail that made up Hermione Granger was like a hot needle pricking his skin over and over again.

The most aggravating thing – the trait of hers that caused unmitigated white rage to erupt inside him – was her stupid resilience. She was a stubborn witch; too stubborn for her own damn good. As a Malfoy, he was _not_ accustomed to being ignored. He was not used to being denied anything he wanted. What he had grown used to over the years was expecting to get exactly what he wanted whenever he wanted it. Yes it had made him spoilt and privileged and obnoxious, but everyone he had ever come into contact with was exactly the same. He had been raised to expect to receive people's attention, respect and adoration simply because of the ancient family he had been born into.

Now, Hermione Granger had never been one to honour that tradition. In fact, the witch had never made his life easy. She'd always beaten him academically. She'd always managed to ruin his day with her annoying presence and appetite for ruining his fun at someone else's expense. She'd even gone so far as to break his bloody nose. But if the past few weeks had revealed anything, it was that he could get her to succumb to his charms pretty fucking quickly. Well… _charms_ was pushing it ridiculously, given that he had never done anything to charm her in any way, shape or form. Sexual prowess was a far more appropriate term.

Since the incident involving Pansy and the broom closet, however, she had taken to acting as though he didn't exist. Not just by the predictable act of determinedly avoiding his eyes and feigning complete indifference to his presence – in the grand scheme of things that would have been fine, and not too far removed from how she had been before. No, she had taken it all one step further. She had the complete _audacity_ to act as though she was on cloud nine. She stuck to Potter and Weasley like glue (not that he really understood the purpose of the weird muggle adhesive substance), there was a cheery smile painted across her face most of the time, and she had even gone so far as to add a little spring to her step.

It was sickening.

It was genius.

It was doing his head in.

" _Shagging Weasley must be doing wonders for her!"_

He'd scoffed at Blaise Zabini's assessment of her ridiculous demeanour, choking down the unmistakable jealousy that reared its head at the thought of Weasley touching her like that. Truth be told, the thought of Weasley even looking at her in that way made him want to punch the freckles off his face. As irritating and as unwanted as these feelings were, he couldn't exactly deny them to himself. However, he dutifully refused to read too much into them. The way he saw it, he had every right to feel possessive over her, and the jealousy sprang from this inherent Malfoy trait. Nothing more.

Besides, she was quite clearly in the same boat. Behind her mask of joviality he could see how void her eyes were of any real emotion or spark. It amused him to no end that he could notice her façade from a mile off, while those two idiots she insisted on speaking to were yet to pick up on anything. Although, to be fair, they could easily chalk it up to her obsessive studying or anxiety over the impending war, but it was evident that there was something else bothering her. She'd gone into some sort of weird autopilot and he had a feeling the only thing keeping her firmly in check was her stupid pride and sense of morality. He could tell he'd really managed to get to her this time, and a quick fuck with some sincere caresses was hardly going to help this time around. She wouldn't be making such a show of everything if he hadn't managed to piss her off to the point of actually managing to _hurt_ her.

Not that she had any right to be cross with him. This was at the crux of the matter, and he couldn't help but feel as though some sort of higher power was having a field day with him. If she hadn't ruined everything to begin with, he'd never have gone after Pansy to seek release. It wasn't like he enjoyed seeking out the raven-haired witch who was always too eager and too insincere for his tastes. He had been starting to realise that, for some unfathomable reason, Granger was becoming lodged in his thoughts in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant. If anything, Pansy Parkinson was an experiment. Not once did he manage to keep Granger from his mind the whole time he was thrusting himself into Pansy; it confirmed that, for now at least, this thing between them was here to stay.

But all of that had gone to hell now, and it was completely unjustified. Completely. Because he and Granger had never once outlined exclusivity or monogamy. They had never stated that they wouldn't have relations with other people. He'd be the first to admit that he didn't exactly make his trysts obvious to her, but he was an extremely private person by nature – it wasn't his style. Regardless of how violated and betrayed she felt, it was completely unwarranted. He had no solid commitments to her, and that had always been the best thing about their arrangement. Even now, desperate as he was for this not to end, he knew he'd never allow himself to start figuring out the miniscule details of this thing with her. Not only was the whole thing absurd enough without adding something so ludicrous to the mix, but ironing out the finer details would lead to restrictions and commitments and then, inevitably, defining what they were once and for all. He literally shuddered at the thought.

No, he had to bring some sort of order to this madness before it got even more out of hand. If she was determined to persist in this ridiculous play of ignorance then so be it. He was happy to continue hating her very being until she snapped out of it and came crawling back. He could control himself until then – he wasn't an animal.

He gave it three days.

 **~.:.~**

Hermione would always remember that week as the seven days of unstoppable rain. It poured and poured, and the castle was enshrouded in a permanent grey fog. Ginny had continuously described it as depressing, but she found it incredibly soothing. It was like the world was being cleansed, and she would be lying if she said she didn't need to experience something similar herself. She didn't know what had gotten into her the past couple of weeks. It often felt like she was having some kind of out-of-body-experience; witnessing someone who looked exactly like her making decisions that ordinarily she would never even dream of considering. She'd love to blame the whole thing on Draco Malfoy, but she knew it wasn't entirely his fault. All she'd had to do was resist. And failing that, she could have told Harry and Ron and they would have made sure she'd never have succumbed to having secret trysts with one of the most horrible people she'd ever had the misfortune to come across.

But she hadn't done anything like that. From the very beginning she'd gone to extreme lengths to keep the entire thing a closely guarded secret. And now, so much time had passed that there was no way of coming clean without having to admit that she'd not wanted to confide in her best friends. The sex was one thing – that would be an uncomfortable detail to reveal, but ultimately she knew that they'd understand the need to escape. Whilst they had Quidditch, she had nothing to fill that void, and eventually she knew they'd be able to see her perspective. But the fact that she had purposefully not found out for certain which side Malfoy was on would be inexcusable. Especially given that they'd chosen to sleep together on numerous occasions – it wasn't just a one-time thing that was so insignificant it didn't matter anymore. How would they ever trust her judgement again? How would they ever trust her?

The worst thing was that, after all was said and done, she didn't think she'd ever be able to trust herself again. She had become a version of herself that she did not like in any way, and she wasn't too sure she could be that person anymore. She had been weak, irrational and irresponsible. She had allowed herself to dance along to the tune of Draco's demands and her raging hormones. She had started to lose her self-respect, and she thanked her lucky stars every single day that Harry had seen fit to open that broom closet.

Yes it had been a shock. And yes it had hurt more than she would ever care to admit. But it had been the wake-up call she so desperately needed. The attraction she felt towards the striking wizard was immense, and she knew it hadn't just evaporated into thin air. But she couldn't let this continue the way it was – she'd known for a long time that things between them were wrong on so many levels, but she'd never taken any steps towards rectifying it. It just wasn't acceptable anymore. If the revelation of his escapades with Parkinson had revealed anything, it was that Draco Malfoy didn't have a shred of respect for her – even after all this time. She didn't like him, but she had definitely started to warm to him more than she ever thought was possible, and she certainly had enough respect for him to not sleep with anyone else. It was unequal and it went against everything she stood for.

She hated feeling dirty and unworthy. She was ten times the witch Parkinson was, and beat Malfoy at every single academic assignment they received. And yet, they'd both made her feel smaller than ever simply by stumbling out of a tiny cupboard. It was ridiculously juvenile and she would be damned if it was going to happen again.

She needed release and she needed an escape; she was only human after all. But she wasn't going to allow this to dictate her decisions and responsibilities anymore. She was going to put some space between her and Malfoy once and for all.

If he didn't like it, he would just have to lump it.

 **~.:.~**

Draco Malfoy knew that he would have to give her credit for the strength of her steely will-power. He had predicted she'd last 3 days. It was exactly 8 days later, on her way back to the common room from the elaborate Halloween feast that he finally managed to intercept her route and get her alone. She put up a fierce fight, but he was frustrated beyond belief and his grip was unyielding.

He'd locked them in an abandoned classroom and just had enough time to deposit a hasty silencing charm before she slapped him hard across the face. The only word that suited her demeanour in that moment was furious. Anger was radiating off her and her eyes had darkened to a deep coffee shade that glinted dangerously when the candlelight hit them. He growled in a mixture of irritation and arousal. Why did she always have to fuck with his head?

"Given the circumstances," he began in a low, deep baritone, "I'm going to let that go. But if you so much as even think about doing that again, Granger, I will not be held responsible for my actions."

She rolled her eyes.

"I couldn't care less about your actions Malfoy! I'm not scared of you!"

He ignored her and stepped towards her, quirking an eyebrow in amusement when she took a step back from him.

"I think it's about time we talked," he drawled. "Your attempt at ignoring me has only served to prolong this tedious exchange."

"I have nothing to say to you," she spat, her eyes still looked onto his. Her stare didn't falter, and he found himself becoming more and more intrigued by this new resilience she was showing. He liked it; it suited her.

"Well that's fortunate given that I hadn't planned on listening to you."

He shot her a meaningful look before wandering over to the window. He leaned against it, looking out across the grounds; he wasn't going to be able to do this if he had to keep looking at her. It was taking all of his strength to not throw her against the wall and fuck her until she clawed at his back and screamed his name. It had been too long and he wasn't getting any more patient.

"Is there a reason why you've been pretending I don't exist?"

He heard her sigh in irritation.

"I'm done."

He scoffed.

"Are you now?"

"Yes."

"Of course you are."

"I'm _serious_ , Malfoy. I'm done with this. With you."

Draco turned back to look at her, and was surprised to see just how sincere she actually was. All of a sudden, he was attacked with an overwhelming sense of confliction; a part of him was furious at the fact that she was under the illusion that she had the power to call the shots between them, and another part was beginning to panic at the thought that this – the one remaining thing he had that gave him any kind of stability – was being taken away.

"Because I've been fucking Parkinson?"

Hermione rolled her eyes again, but all in all her face was the epitome of indifferent. She knew it would irk him, and she couldn't resist. If things went to plan this would be the last time she ever met with him, and she'd never have this kind of opportunity to really get under his skin again.

"Partly. This has been getting out of hand for ages now – it had to end at some point."

Draco slammed his fist against the wall before stalking towards her and grabbing her by the shoulders. He towered over her and she had to crane her neck to look him in the eye.

"If you're so determined to finish this," he hissed icily, "the least you can do is be honest."

She swallowed and tried to keep herself calm. This wasn't what she wanted at all – she didn't want him to make this more difficult. She didn't want to be vulnerable in front of him anymore. All she wanted to do was crawl under a rock and wait for the nightmare to be over.

"Go on Granger, tell me the real reason why you're so keen to end this."

"I don't have time for this," she said weakly. "And you don't care enough anyway, so just let it go."

His eyes darkened and he fought to keep his emotions in check. She was right, he didn't care enough…or at least, he didn't care about her enough. But he certainly did care about himself, and that had to be where this indignation was coming from…he was sure of it.

"You know you're only angry because this is all your fault."

That did it. Hermione's self-control and desire to not be vulnerable in front of the ferret crumbled into dust as soon as the taunt left his lips. She was absolutely livid. Just when she thought she'd heard it all from him, he went and added a new depth to his own stupidity.

"How dare you!" her body was rigid and her hands were balled into tight fists. "My fault? How in Merlin's name is this my fault?"

"You're the one who's pissed off and on her high horse about me fucking Pansy," he stated in a tone so condescending it gave Snape a run for his money. "You never once thought to state that we weren't supposed to sleep with other people. Have as many tantrums as you want, but you know as well as I do that I've done nothing wrong here."

Hermione blinked three times. As infuriatingly disgusting as he was, she couldn't deny that he had a point. It was almost as though he was enjoying this, and she could feel her hands itching to claw the smug smirk off his face.

"While that may be true," she acquiesced unwillingly, "are you seriously telling me that if I'd requested we both refrained from having sex with anyone else whilst sleeping with each other, you would have agreed? Somehow I find that incredibly hard to believe, you know, given that you're a disgusting pervert."

He chuckled darkly in genuine amusement at her watery insult.

"Of course not," he said silkily, pulling her closer to him. "But then at least it would never have gotten this far. Because if it mattered that much to you it would have been more than enough for you to stay away from me. But you didn't. And here we are."

She hated the fact that her body was responding to him. Just his mere presence made her wiggle in anticipation, and she could feel her knickers becoming more and more uncomfortable the more he pulled her to him. She would never be able to explain why she was so attracted to him – maybe it was the power that danced around his beautiful grey eyes, or the way his hair framed his face so perfectly, making him appear groomed and yet a tad dishevelled at the same time. Perhaps it was the way his lips felt against hers; it never ceased to amaze her how the softest lips could produce the coldest of words. His body fit hers perfectly, and he had learnt just how to touch her to get her to melt in his arms. In a physical sense, she couldn't say that they weren't perfect, because she genuinely believed they were.

But things were not that simple. And the small voice in her head finally won out.

"Only thing is Malfoy, _this_ isn't where we are at all."

His eyes, which had been hooded with lust, suddenly snapped open. She had never seen him look so confused.

"You and I started this because we both needed to escape from everything. We're so stressed and tightly wound all the time and we needed some form of release. It should never have happened, but we found it in each other…only now you have Pansy."

He wanted to shut her up right there. It would have been so easy for him to interrupt and tell her she was wrong – he probably would have enjoyed it too. She clearly had no idea that Pansy did absolutely nothing for him, and she was clearly so self-assured that any admission on his part would have probably rendered her speechless. But instead, against his better judgement, he kept quiet. He wasn't sure why he didn't just tell her the truth; the words were all there, she was right in front of him, the timing was perfect. And yet, he just couldn't do it.

He had never felt so utterly powerless before.

"And it's lucky that you do because now everything can go back to normal. You only needed me for one thing, and now you've found someone so much better suited for the task. Someone who won't ask so many questions and who isn't likely to fight on the opposite side of the war to you. It doesn't matter anymore. None of it does. I told you I was done and I meant it."

He didn't even notice that she'd managed to break out of his grasp and was literally walking away from him. He just stared at her retreating form. She really was done with the whole affair. And he really wasn't stopping her.

"Granger," he said as soon as her wand touched the lock on the door.

She stopped moving but refused to turn her head towards him.

"If you walk out that door there's no going back."

He knew it was a weak attempt. He should have just told her the truth, although he knew no good would come of it even if he did. He didn't know what he was doing anymore – he certainly didn't know what he wanted. All of this was happening too quickly, and once again she had managed to call his bluff and flummox him as though it was the easiest thing in the world for her to do.

"That's what I'm counting on."

Draco Malfoy didn't leave that classroom until three in the morning. He looked as cocky and as elusive as always, and there was no trace of the fact that every step he took was laden with regret. It may have taken him hours to admit it to himself, but now there was no way he could avoid it.

He'd made a huge mistake. And there was no way he could fix it.


	9. Chapter 9: Thinking Out Loud

**A/N:** **I know I say it every time I upload, but seriously thank you so, so much for all of the favourites, alerts and reviews – the response to the last chapter completely blew me away, and I'm so glad that you guys are enjoying it** **I'm also relieved that so many of you understood why I had to end things like that – it's essential for Draco's development, and to be honest I don't really like writing Hermione as a dependent, passive character. As much as I love her with Draco, I don't think she'd keep compromising Harry like that! Anyway, ramble over – I hope you enjoy this chapter; please let me know what you think! The next two chapters will have a few flashbacks to keep up the Dramione action, so I hope it helps build on the story's foundations!**

 **Also, I hope you've all had a fun and festive week!** **Sorry it took so long to update!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I own nothing but the plot!**

 **Chapter Nine:** **Thinking Out Loud**

 _Draco,_

 _I am disappointed in your lack of correspondence. It does not demonstrate even a modicum of respect to ignore me or the high standard of etiquette your mother has painstakingly carved into you. I will not tolerate this any longer so see that it is corrected at once, or I will not be responsible for my actions._

 _Your presence will be expected at the Manor for the duration of the Christmas holidays. It will be an important two weeks; do not mess this up. Send confirmation of your attendance as a reply._

 _Father_

 **~.:.~**

"Where did you disappear to last night?"

Hermione winced at the accusatory tone and took a large sip of her pumpkin juice. She hadn't slept a wink and she'd hoped to be a bit more awake before having to deal with a barrage of questions. She'd realised in the early hours of the morning that she'd silently slipped away during dinner with no explanation, and had spent hours trying to come up with an excuse that she hadn't used to death by now.

"What are you on about?"

"You disappeared during the Halloween feast!" Ron exclaimed with wide eyes. "It's the best spread of the year and you just vanished! You missed out on the best pumpkin pasties I've ever tasted!"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling in amusement as Ron shovelled eggs down his throat. The innocence and simplicity of it all warmed her heart in the most sincere way. It was so normal – so familiar. In moments like this it was easy to pretend that they were just average teenagers without the stress of a maniacal wizard rising to power weighing heavily on their minds. It may be a pretty delicate bubble to float around in, even for a few minutes, but after such a long period of unpredictable uncertainty this sliver of normalcy was exactly what she needed.

"Some of us have more important things to think about than lining our stomachs all the time!" she retorted teasingly.

"Merlin Ron do you ever stop to chew?" Ginny wrinkled her nose in disgust as she sat beside her brother. "It's a wonder you're not the size of a house!"

Ron flushed scarlet and Hermione giggled into her goblet. Things were still strained between the siblings, but with Harry's reluctance to admit to his true feelings and Ginny's resolve to pretend it never happened as a consequence, Ron was being a lot less dramatic about everything. It was all bound to come to a head eventually, and she wasn't looking forward to the repercussions; she would undoubtedly be cast in the role of sympathetic ear to all three of her best friends, and the thought genuinely exhausted her.

She momentarily furrowed her brow in confusion as she noted Harry's absence, before realisation dawned on her. Recently he had been spending early mornings and late nights with Professor Dumbledore; he was still yet to divulge the details properly to her and Ron, and she was beginning to get antsy. Every time she saw him he looked more and more harrowed – she didn't know if he was being taught complex spells, or being trained to strengthen the fortresses of his mind, but she knew the best thing to do was simply have faith in Dumbledore's methods. She longed to understand exactly what they were dealing with; she knew that it would inevitably be Harry facing the dark wizard on his own, but she wanted to be as prepared as possible to fight with him until that point. This interlude of waiting for something to happen was agonising, and it made concentrating on anything else incredibly difficult.

Well…maybe not _everything_ else. It turned out that it made absolutely no difference how hard she tried to distract herself, Draco Malfoy was not about to just disappear from her mind. He was refusing to budge and there was nothing she could do about it. Before their encounter last night it had been a little easier to deal with; ignoring him was something she was used to, and in a lot of ways it wasn't so final. Now everything was different. There was no coming back from this latest development. She knew she had done the right thing; she had been irresponsible for far too long and she was tired of going round in circles. It had to stop while they both had their sanity intact. But the look on his face was proving to be her Achilles heel. He was outraged and his pride had been hurt, but the most striking thing was how sad he had seemed. She knew she was taking his one source of escape away, and given how hard she was finding it she knew it would be worse for him because it hadn't been on his terms. There was a part of her that wanted to flee down to the dungeons and rekindle everything she had thrown away a matter of hours ago. But a larger portion of her needed this to be over once and for all. If he was anyone else she would stubbornly try to make it work, but that was completely out of the question with Malfoy. Harry and Ron would never accept it, and his father would happily turn them all over to Voldermort without a second thought.

No. She'd done the right thing. The pain would go away eventually, and soon this would all be just a minor blip. A blip she would keep secret and take to her grave.

"….that reminds me, what are you doing for Christmas, Hermione? Mum would love it if you came to the Burrow?"

Hermione blinked and tried to focus on the two redheads staring at her expectantly.

"Um, I'll be at home with my parents on Christmas day, but I'm sure I can come over on Boxing Day."

"Ok, we can exchange presents then. I haven't had a chance to buy anything…"

As Ginny launched into a rant at her brother for interrupting her Christmas shopping at Hogsmeade, Hermione's eyes flickered over to the Slytherin table. She was eager for time away from the wizarding world; the absence was sure to make her feel more like herself and offer her more perspective on the whole thing. She had given herself a multitude of spells and enchantments to learn, as well as her usual work-load, in the hope that she would be back to normal in January.

She frowned slightly when she realised he wasn't there, before shaking herself out of her stupor. The less she saw him, the better.

She repeated it like a chant for the rest of the day.

 **~.:.~**

" _Why do you do that?"_

 _Malfoy's hands froze in mid-air, her voice startling him in the determined silence they'd created. He quirked an eyebrow at her._

" _Do what?"_

 _His voice was husky; a gruff contrast to her light tone._

" _Button your shirt like that."_

 _He threw her an incredulous look, not entirely sure what she was on about, and even less sure if asking any more questions was the best course of action. She rolled her eyes at his lack of response and walked towards him, stopping just out of his reach. Any closer and things would be improper; awkward and claustrophobic._

" _You button the middle button first," she explained, her finger lightly tapping the button in question. "Before continuing down to the last one, and then starting back at the top til you reach the middle. I noticed it last time too. It's bizarre!"_

 _He couldn't help it. He played every single defence he possessed, but he couldn't stop his lips from arranging themselves into an amused smirk. She blinked up at him; it was eerie to see such a normal expression on his face, and it unnerved her to think she was the reason behind it._

" _And it bothers you so much because…"_

" _It doesn't bother me," she asserted with a small smile. "It's just something I noticed about you."_

 _Three surreal seconds later and they were back to normal, both determined to act as though that little interlude had never happened. His face was unreadable, but she was far from in control of her nervous disposition. She was a fidgeting mess and she mentally resolved to do everything in her power to ensure this didn't happen again. As few and far between as these moments were, she was always surprised at how natural they felt. They weren't forced or fake, but they were alien and dangerous territory. She didn't enjoy fighting with him, but it was something she felt comfortable with – it grounded her more than anything else, and she didn't want it to evaporate into thin air. Especially at the expense of a handful of light-hearted moments with a man who made no secret about the fact that he despised her._

" _I'll see you around Granger," he drawled as he strode over to the door. "Don't think so hard. Makes you look like an old hag."_

 _She bit back a relieved smile and scowled at him._

 _Normal was far better._

 **~.:.~**

Draco Malfoy was not regarded as the cheeriest person on earth. In fact, the majority of people who knew of him would venture that they had never seen him crack a joke let alone a smile. However, in the space of twenty-four hours, it seemed as though he had adopted an even darker persona. His mood was foul, his glare was frostier than ever, and when he did open his mouth to speak his words were crafted to cut sharper than a jagged piece of glass. His fellow Slytherins avoided him; Pansy had been the only one foolish enough to try and speak to him, and the string of curses she was met with sent her running for the hills.

The interesting thing was that, for once, his mood was not intentional. Not that he was complaining; being left alone by everyone definitely had its merits, and he wasn't in any rush to give that up. But he was getting more and more irritated with the lack of control he had over his emotions. He had always been skilled at recognising how he felt and dealing with it accordingly; nine times out of ten this meant concealing them, but this had never been a negative thing. In fact, it was a trait encouraged by the pureblood elite. It was something he had always recognised as normal, and he hated the fact that he seemed to be less equipped than normal at it all of a sudden.

Not that he was about dissolve into some sort of emotional mess; he wasn't a Hufflepuff. But ever since he'd stalked out of that classroom last night he'd been irritated at how little he'd revealed to the indignant witch who apparently knew him so well. She had been so, so wrong about so many things, and he'd passed up to golden opportunity to put Hermione Granger in her place. At the time he had felt conflicted and trapped between two of his natural instincts; one that required him to keep himself in check and reveal nothing, the other that urged him to prove to her just how wrong she was. She had stood in front of him, thinking she had all of the power, and called the whole thing off, and he had let her, despite being furious at her audacity. And now, he couldn't help but want her more. It was the first time since they'd returned to school that he'd seen her so like her old self, and a sick, twisted part of him wanted to see it more.

But he would be damned if he chased her ever again. She had made the decision for the both of them, and he hoped she suffered for it. He still believed that she had no real right to be upset, and the fact that she'd thrown everything away because of it just made him surer that she was not worth his energy. He'd be able to ween himself off of her; she had been like an addiction to him, and had last night not happened he probably would have relapsed by now. But she had acted as though she had authority over him; along the way he had somehow allowed her to garner the impression that she could make assertions that impacted him. It was more than enough to put him off her for good.

It was over, and he couldn't have been happier about it.


	10. Chapter 10: When The Penny Drops

**A/N:** I wanted to get this up a lot earlier, but things rarely go to plan in my world and here we are! I hope you enjoy this – I'm relieved that it's the last chapter where Draco and Hermione are physically separated because there's only so much I can do without them being under one roof! I hope the flashbacks in this chapter clear up the final bit of context - no one's asked me about it yet, but it's been bugging me that I haven't addressed whether Hermione was a virgin when she had sex with Draco that first time or not. Let me know your thoughts :)

Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and alerted! I'm sorry it took a bit longer for me to reply – holiday madness! Also, I'd just like to thank everyone who has left a guest review so far! It's so annoying that I can't thank you personally, but I really appreciate every single one of them, and I didn't want anyone to think I was ignoring them since I haven't acknowledged them this far!

And finally: **Happy New Year Everyone!** May you all be healthy and happy in 2016! xx

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot!

 **Chapter Ten: When The Penny Drops**

 _"This wasn't your first time was it?"_

 _There was a pregnant pause; it may as well have been a statement as opposed to a question for all it was worth. She wasn't sure if he required an answer, and he was not in the mood to clarify. He kept his wintry grey orbs locked on her even as she averted her gaze, choosing instead to fidget with her tights that were balled up in a tangled mess in her hands. A subtle blush adorned her cheeks, and he fought the urge to trace it with his finger down her neck. The time for that had clearly passed, and they were well on the way back to reality._

 _"No."_

 _Her tone held a hint of a challenge; as if she was daring him to ridicule her. He blinked, more at the front she was putting on as opposed to anything else. He wasn't sure if he was surprised - a_ _n hour ago he probably would have bet his inheritance on the assumption that she was a virgin. He'd always regarded her as a prudish individual - she came across as so uptight and always seemed to wrinkle her nose at anything remotely sexual, forever rolling her eyes and tutting as Potter and Weasley fumbled around the opposite sex. To him, she was always one of those girls who was going to wait devoutly for what was supposed to be the right guy, but really ended up being no better than an average Joe._

 _Ironically, he had intended to ask her before he got to the point of slipping her knickers down her legs. He **really** had. Since he'd seen her over the summer he'd spent many an hour wondering and, despite being confident that she was a complete novice in these matters, he'd always thought she carried herself with an air of mystery. The moment she slid her tongue in his mouth and allowed her hands to dance across his body he'd had a feeling there was more to the shrewd brunette than met the eye. Her touch, though hesitant, came with a practiced ease, and the way she playfully stroked his erection made him sure she'd done it before. _

_"Well congratulations Granger," he scoffed sardonically. "I didn't think you had it in you."_

 _She threw him a cold look that captured her annoyance perfectly, and her fingers clenched around the wispy black material. Was she ever going to put those damn tights back on?_

 _"Did you really think I'd choose **you** to be my first? I don't bloody think so!"_

 _He glared at her, thoroughly insulted at the nerve of her to seem so openly disgusted at lowering herself to the likes of him. How could she not see it was the other way around? He hated the fact that he was attracted to her in anyway, and her haughtiness was only serving to strengthen his disgust at his own lack of self-control._

 _"So who was it then?" he drawled, determined to push her as much as possible. "Scar-face or Weaselby? Either way you have my commiserations. The thought of either of those two idiots even attempting to please a witch –"_

 _"For your information ferret, it wasn't either of them! So if I were you, I'd keep my horrible comments to myself!"_

 _He blinked at her, genuinely surprised by her answer. He had not seen that coming in a million years; thanks to the Yule Ball in fourth year, the world had learned that Hermione Granger wasn't a complete aesthetic disaster, but that didn't mean she had a line of boys throwing themselves at her either. He had watched her with detachment for the past seven years, and he rarely saw her interact with anyone who wasn't Potter, a Weasley or one of her random acquaintances from Gryffindor. The thought of her consorting with anyone else, especially on such an intimate level, was an alien concept to him._

 _"_ _What's the matter Malfoy? Cat got your tongue?"_

 _The condescension in her tone was more than enough to make him resolve to never ever approach the subject again. In the time he'd taken to analyse this new piece of information, she'd succeeded in putting the rest of her clothes on and was now smiling mockingly at him from the door._

 _"Or is realising you're a narrow-minded, pig-headed idiot just too difficult a pill to swallow?"_

 **~.:.~**

"Now are you sure you like it? Because I think you can still exchange it…if you really want to? I wasn't really paying attention to the sales lady–"

"Yeah, and why is that Ron?" Harry asked teasingly, enjoying the way Ron's cheeks flushed scarlet. "Didn't have anything to do with the size of her breasts or anything, right?"

"Let's keep the topic of conversation appropriate please," admonished Mrs Weasley as she threw her youngest son and his best friend a disapproving glare. "But really Hermione, if you want to exchange it tomorrow I'd be more than happy to go with you."

At the older woman's sympathetic smile, Hermione took another look at the mustard yellow blanket in her lap, and forced a smile onto her face. Unfortunately, Ron's skill at gift-giving had not improved over the years, and she had yet another item to add to the box under her bed dedicated to all the odd things she received from him. He'd meant well – "I thought you could use it when you're up at silly-o'-clock down in the common room reading….or studying…or whatever it is you do down there" – and she really did appreciate the thought. But she really wished he wouldn't waste his money on such random things; she would have been happy with a hug and a break from his argumentative nature.

"It's fine Mrs Weasley," she assured. "I'm sure I'll get some use out of it. Thank you Ron…you _really_ didn't have to."

It didn't take a genius to see that she was lying through her teeth, but Ron smiled proudly and tucked into a mince pie.

All in all, it had been a relatively quiet Christmas. Too quiet. She'd spent the day with her parents, and whilst it had been a lovely excuse to spend time with them and indulge in normality for once, it had felt as though she was on auto-pilot for the full twenty-four hours. Helping her mum make dinner, flicking through the Christmas specials on the television with her dad, settling into a game of Monopoly in the evening and reaching for the thimble because it was what she had always done. It had been strange, but in a blissful ignorance sort of way. It clashed tremendously with the sombre, slightly forced cheeriness at the Burrow.

To their credit, the Weasleys were making a gallant effort at keeping everyone's festive spirits high; Fred and George had ensured that every nook and cranny was graced with enchanted mistletoe, and Mr Weasley had launched into many a song over the course of the day. But it was clear that everyone was terrified of this being their final Christmas together; anything could happen in the next hour, let alone year, and it wasn't an easy fact to push aside.

"Hermione, could you go up and get Ginny to come downstairs please? I don't know what's gotten into that girl recently, but I'm not having her exclude herself like this!"

Mrs Weasley's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she quickly made her way upstairs, shooting Harry a meaningful look as she passed him. She knew he had a lot on his plate, but all it would take from him was a five minute conversation with Ginny to sort all of this mess out. She'd hoped that a few days at the Burrow would be the push he needed, but as soon as she'd stepped out of the fireplace that morning she'd realised that not much had changed between them.

"Gin, can I come in?"

Ginny mumbled something that sounded like a 'yes', and Hermione stepped inside, shutting the door behind her softly. She stood by the door, noticing how small Ginny looked curled up on her comforter. The fiery redhead was, for lack of a better word, wilting right in front of her, and it was a sad sight to see.

"Your mum wants you to come downstairs. You're missing all the fun."

Ginny offered her an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry I'm so miserable," she said quietly. "I hate feeling like this!"

Hermione forced herself to perch on the edge of Ginny's bed with what she hoped was a sympathetic expression. It wasn't that she didn't care - it was more that focussing on matters of the heart in her current situation was becoming increasingly difficult. She needed to distance herself from this kind of thing if she was ever going to hold on to her sanity.

"I thought it would be different once we came home, but it's so much worse. Harry doesn't even look at me any more, which of course has made Ron think that it's all in my head! It just hurts so much…I really thought he cared about me."

Hermione sighed heavily and fidgeted with her wand.

"He _does_ care about you Ginny, and I don't think he's being intentionally cruel. It's not in his nature," she swallowed thickly as a flash of blond hair and perfect porcelain skin invaded her mind. Now was not the time to get distracted by a man whose very nature seemed to embrace cruelty. "I don't know why he's being like this, but I do know that it isn't worth ruining your Christmas over. I know he's downstairs, but all of your family are too, and that's the important thing."

Ginny nodded, wiping her eyes and running a hand through her hair.

"I know you're right – I swear I'm losing my mind. I saw him talking to Fleur earlier and I felt sick to my stomach; I'm not joking Hermione, I almost hexed her! I'm not the kind of girl who gets jealous, but the thought of him with anyone else drives me crazy!"

Hermione felt a familiar pang in her gut and she froze. She couldn't believe that she was actually able to relate to what Ginny was saying; it was impossible. Ginny had had feelings for Harry for years – genuine feelings that had grown over time and had the potential to blossom into so much more. Jealousy was excusable on _her_ part, however irrational. She, on the other hand, had despised Malfoy the entire time she'd known him, and now the only feeling that accompanied it was a raw lust that she was fighting to control.

It _wasn't_ the same. As he'd pointed out, she'd had no actual right to be mad at him for shagging Pansy Parkinson because he'd technically done nothing wrong. Ever since those final words had been spoken between them, she'd told herself that she had every right to be angry at his complete lack of respect towards her, and this was still true. But the idea that she could be jealous left a bad taste in her mouth; how could she be jealous when she didn't even like him?

 _Not that you've made a proper effort to get to know him._

The annoying voice inside her head was making a habit of reminding her of little facts like that. There was a part of her that did, admittedly, want to get to know him better. He was capable of touching her so gently, and there were times were he'd literally worshipped her body to the point of making her feel incredible. And then there were the times he'd soften his gaze when he glanced at her, or tucked a lock of her unruly hair behind her ear almost fondly. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to draw that side of him out properly.

Of course, that was side-stepping the fact that he was likely to be fighting against her when the time was right. That and the cold, unrelenting fact that he still saw her as a dirty mudblood, inferior to him in every way. A few months of intimacy hadn't changed anything for him in that respect, and that was that. She could be as jealous as she wanted - it wouldn't change the fact that to him, she was nothing of worth.

"But you've always liked Harry like that Gin," she reasoned desperately, more for her own benefit than anything else. "You're feeling like this now because everything to do with him is heightened."

Ginny shook her head and Hermione bit back an impatient grimace.

"No, I've always felt like this about him. It's bizarre; with any other boy it's never bothered me. But with Harry I've always been irrational - I guess it's just the effect he has on me."

Hermione swallowed the nausea bubbling in her stomach and fought to keep her expression neutral. This was not good at all. Not in any way. What if this was what was to come for her? What if she always felt disgusted at the thought of him with someone else? What if, in the back of her mind, she'd always compare whoever she was with to him? What if pushing Draco Malfoy out of her world was something easier said than done?

"Not that any of this matters anyway," Ginny concluded resolutely. "He doesn't feel the same about me. It is what it is, I guess."

 _Indeed._

 **~.:.~**

Malfoy Manor was a hauntingly beautiful estate all year round, but Draco had always found it especially eye-catching over Christmas. Winter was a true Malfoy season, and the Manor appeared to bask in the frost. Snow adorned the turrets and ice danced across the pathways, whilst the glow of over a dozen candles flickered through the windows. As a child, he'd been entranced by its allure. As a man, he'd learned to appreciate the strength of his mother's aptitude for good housekeeping, or in Narcissa's case, good house elf management.

But this particular year, as a man nursing a strong inner turmoil couertesy of a stubborn muggle born witch, he found the entire thing colourless and bland. He'd been home for about a week now, and aside from either being utterly bored or unnerved out of his mind due to the plethora of Deatheaters traipsing in and out of the grounds at all hours, he was completely disinterested. All he could think about was her, and he was beginning to hate himself for it.

Suddenly, he couldn't see her the same way he had all of these years. She wasn't Mudblood Granger to him. She wasn't the once buck-toothed annoyance with a prim and proper attitude. She wasn't even Potter's encyclopaedia or Weasley's walking fantasy any more. To him, she had become _Hermione Granger_ : the girl with the silkiest skin, beautifully expressive eyes and stunning smile. Along with the ability to grip him like a vice and scream his name over and over again. He had given up trying to understand how this had happened; it could have been over time or in the space of an hour for all it mattered. The point was that he had fallen into the one thing he was so adamantly sure he'd be able to avoid when it came to liaising with her. And no amount of time away from her, or abstinence in general, was going to change things.

But it was all a lost cause, because Granger had resolved to never go there with him again. And there was no way he could convince her without revealing that he actually wanted her. Truth be told, he was still eagerly anticipating the day when he stopped thinking about her altogether. It was too dangerous; especially with the time of his initiation drawing ever closer. She was aligned with the good side; whenever he thought about getting the Dark Mark, her disapproving glare cast a shadow over his reverie, and the last thing he needed was the Dark Lord picking up on it. His father had repeatedly drilled into him how important it was that he receive the mark without any sort of disturbance. Their family name and legacy was riding on this, and regardless of what side they were fighting for, familial obligation was a factor he had to take into account. It was also a factor he knew she'd never be able to understand; in theory maybe, but in practice ancient loyalty was a completely different ball game.

It was a sodding mess, and he had never felt so pathetic. Instead of making concrete decisions and dealing with things, he was sat up in his room pining after a girl he could never have. Part of him was convinced he needed to have her one last time. Just once more. His body was aching for her, and he didn't want to forget what it was like to taste her or feel her up against him. If he had her one more time before turning his back to all of this nonsense forever, it might just be the final push he needed.

 _Or you might realise you don't want to let go._

It may have been the less dominant side of his mind, but it was the side that happened to be right, and therefore impossible to ignore. Not that it made any sense; he didn't actually know anything about her, and was still very much aware of the fact that she provoked him more than anyone else ever had. Maybe, in a different realm, things would have been different. He probably would have put more effort into actually speaking to her under completely different circumstances, because as uncomfortable as it felt when she smiled at him or when they spoke involuntarily, it was always easier than he anticipated.

But things were the way they were. He was without that luxury. It was probably for the best anyway; loosing his mind was more than enough without his loosing his heart on top of it.

 **~.:.~**

 _"Viktor was my first."_

 _Draco looked at her through his lashes, his breathing only just returning to normal. They were a tangled mess of limbs, and he was just considering the best way to get her off of him. It wasn't unpleasant to have her in his arms for a few moments longer than normal. Quite the opposite, in fact. But the issue with having Granger so close to him was that it was impossible to ignore the few freckles along her nose, or the length of her eye lashes. The more aware he was of her pressed up against him, the more he wanted to run for the hills. This wasn't something he did with anyone, and he couldn't make a habit of it with her._

 _It took him a moment to fully comprehend what she was on about, before his eyes widened in realisation._

 _"Krum?"_

 _She nodded against his chest._

 _"It wasn't very good," she admitted. "And I was only fifteen - I don't think I was ready."_

 _Draco didn't say anything. He didn't know why she was telling him all of this - she didn't owe him any explanation. And though he had spent weeks trying to figure out who she'd given her virginity to, he was never going to give her the satisfaction of asking her._

 _"Well, you didn't pick the smoothest of men did you?" he teased, momentarily forgetting who he was with. "A bloody Hungarian Horntail would have been gentler than Krum!"_

 _He was even more surprised when she giggled into arm. He didn't think he'd ever made her laugh before. What was he doing? This was not part of the arrangement, and it certainly wasn't what he did. All logic told him to get dressed and leave as quickly as possible. But something stopped him from moving. Something held him there in that moment with her._

 _"Yes well...we all make mistakes."_

 _He stiffened and caught the hidden, yet painfully obvious, double meaning in her words._

 _"Apparently so."_


	11. Chapter 11: Glitches in the System

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews, favourites and alerts - glad to see you're not sick of it yet :P I loved writing this chapter - I've missed featuring these two battle through all their sexual tension haha! Please let me know what you think - I love reading your reactions, and it gives me ideas on how to proceed :)

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot!

 **Chapter Eleven:** **Glitches In The System**

The rest of the holiday had passed in sober blur for Hermione. She'd tried relentlessly to get Harry and Ron to study as much as possible, but when it came down to it, even she struggled with committing her mind to her text books and parchment. They were still extremely unprepared for the final confrontation between Harry and Voldermort, and the frequency of attacks on innocent muggle households was only adding more pressure. The morning and evening editions of The Daily Profit brought nothing but bad news, and any letters sent by Harry to Professor Dumbledore had gone without any sort of reply. Everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells around each other, and Harry had taken to saying as little as possible. When Mr Weasley had returned from work the previous evening, he looked as though he had aged a decade. He explained that another muggle family, not far from Privet Drive, had been tortured and killed by a group of Deatheaters. The rest of the night had passed in relative silence, everyone in mourning for a family they had never known.

When she woke up that morning and gone down to get a glass of water, Harry had been sat at the table staring off into space.

"He's trying to lure me out."

His matter-of-fact words may have been the undeniable truth, but they were of no comfort to her. They'd all been thinking it, but saying it meant that they were now on a far more extreme time limit. She knew Harry was inches away from bolting out the door to confront the Dark wizard once and for all; he couldn't seem to see that it was suicide. As infuriating as it was, they needed him to be completely ready to stand a chance at winning, and avenging all those they had lost.

All in all, it had been an abysmal start to the new year. It was as though, at the stroke of midnight, the whole world had changed forever. Everything seemed the same, yet felt entirely different, and she wasn't sure what that meant. Coming back to Hogwarts had been more painful than anything else. The morning had been spent in a daze; normally packing for school was a chaotic medley of laughter and excitement. It was the first time the task had seemed laborious. And it only served to get worse; the train journey felt longer than usual, and even reading had lost its appeal. Instead of becoming absorbed in the pages, the words swam about in a nonsensical pattern, making her feel queasy and unnerved. Harry and Ron had kept their exchanges to a minimum, neither particularly interested in arguing over which Quidditch team was going to be the trickiest to beat that term, or eating their weight in chocolate. It was a journey unlike any other, and she wondered if it was a sign that things were about to take a turn for the worst. The castle stood tall and magnificent and yet, as she hopped off the train, all she could think about was whether the ancient building would be able to withstand the toils of the impending war. The professors looked haggard, her fellow students looked lost, and she felt like she was in some sort of weird twilight zone. It didn't help that Harry and Ron had retreated back into their own worlds even more. Harry had disappeared as soon as they'd stepped onto the platform, promising to see them at dinner over his shoulder. And Ron was reeling from saying goodbye to his family that morning; it had been extremely emotional, and Mrs Weasley had cried all over them as she'd enveloped them all in bone-crushing hugs. They'd walked up to the common room in silence, and he'd disappeared into his dormitory without a second glance at her.

She watched as the fire crackled. This was what she had been desperate to avoid: being left alone. Because when she was left alone with nothing but her thoughts to accompany her, her mind drifted to _him_. And now that they were back to residing underneath the same roof, thoughts like that were dangerous. She'd thankfully gone this far without catching a glimpse of him, and she was dreading the moment when her luck would run out. Every time she heard about a deatheater attack her mind went into overdrive; was his father, mother or aunt behind it? Would he soon be a part of it all? Did the man who she had trusted with her body really have it in him to torture and kill innocent people because of a twisted, archaic cause? The most frustrating thing was none of this was supposed to matter anymore! She had to stop exhausting herself over assumptions and speculations, because by ending it she had taken the necessary step in cutting all ties between them. He could have been branded with the Dark Mark on Christmas day for all she knew, and it was much better that way.

She opened her bag and picked up a book on ancient hexes. She wouldn't allow herself to think about him anymore. Not even for a second.

 **~.:.~**

All he wanted was some damned peace and quiet.

It was like some higher power or greater force was conspiring against him; everywhere he went there were people. And those people were talking or, more often than not, whispering. It was these infernal attacks on muggles the Dark Lord had instructed his followers to carry out. Everyone was talking about them - either to despair at the brutality or speculate on which masked barbarians were behind them. This, in turn, meant that wherever he went he was watched closely, as though he would magically turn into his father on the spot and fix them with the icy glare Lucius was so renowned for. He was sick of it, and he had reached the end of his patience; instead of going to dinner with everyone else, he'd chosen to stalk the castle grounds. That morning on the train back he'd resorted to hexing Crabbe's mouth to produce toads every time he spoke because he wouldn't stop asking him ridiculous questions about the entire affair.

Ever since he had been born, the elite pureblood society had expected him to follow in his father's footsteps. Consequently, this meant that his peers had always regarded him with a sense of awe; not because they were jealous of what he stood to inherit, but more because his life was mapped out already. When it came down to it, there would never be any unsurity regarding the path he took - it had been paved already before his conception was even considered. As a child, he'd revelled in it. Lucius was not the best father, but Draco was captivated by the sheer amount of power the elder Malfoy could possess whilst balancing terror and charm on a knife's edge. All he ever wanted to do was be just like him; to have the ability to entice and petrify anyone he came into contact with.

Now, however, it was too daunting a prospect. The level of pressure attached to being Lucius Malfoy's son and sole heir was steep enough without factoring in minute details such as what Draco actually wanted from his life. He was beginning to realise that his desires did not equate to his supposed destiny, and he wasn't so sure he'd be able to have it all anymore. Not while being truly happy at least.

In search of quiet solitude, he walked the familiar path to the library, stopping at the entrance as dread hit him like a slap in the face. It may be the best place to go for silence, but it was also the abode of a certain witch he was supposed to be avoiding. Whilst two weeks away had made it clear to him that his feelings for Hermione Granger had changed drastically, he was still no clearer on how to deal with the whole thing. The sensible thing to do would be to leave everything the way it was and forget anything had ever happened between them. With that pushed aside, he'd have the freedom to train his mind into accepting the Dark Lord's cause in time for his initiation. Everything would fall into place the way it was supposed to, and there would be nothing else to worry about. Destiny and tradition would have won the battle against the frivolous desires of the heart, and another pureblood legacy would be set to continue untainted. He could practically feel his ancestors squirming with relish in their cold, marble graves. However, Draco was not a sensible soul, and just knowing she was closer to him logistically for the first time in fourteen days made adrenaline course through his body.

Just as he laid his hand on the knob, the door was pulled open from the other side, and the frizzy brunette of his thoughts stumbled right into him.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed sincerely, before raising her eyes to meet his and stiffening immediately.

 _Merlin knows I've missed those eyes..._

She stared at him as though he'd come back from the dead; her brown eyes flickered in confusion, before glazing over slightly.

"Granger -"

"Don't!" she interrupted, adjusting the books in her arms and stepping around him. "I'm not doing this right now."

"Wait!"

Before he could stop himself, he had grabbed her arm. The physical contact proved to be her undoing, because instead of yanking her arm away or struggling against his grip, she just stood there. It was as though she'd been Stupefied. He flexed his fingers experimentally, enjoying the heat of her body against his. His cock twitched in anticipation and he was momentarily stunned by the instantaneous effect she had on him. It was like a chemical reaction; there were substances they handled in potions that took longer to react to each other than they did. He risked a glance at her face and was pleased to see a pronounced blush streak across her cheeks. She could deny it and avoid him all she wanted, but it was blatantly obvious that she still wanted him.

"I need to talk to you."

She rolled her eyes - it was as though the sound of his voice had brought her crashing back down to earth.

"We have nothing to talk about Malfoy," she ground bitterly. "Now let me go this instant!"

His grip tightened a fraction out of desperation, but every fibre of his being fought to remain in control of himself. This was likely to be his only chance to get her to meet him, and he couldn't screw it up when it had conveniently fallen into his lap.

"Look," he began in a tired drawl. "I remember everything you said, and I know I said there was no coming back from it. But you made you choice based on false information; it's only right that you have all of the facts laid out before you go making drastic decisions!"

Her glare faltered hesitantly, and he knew he'd led with the right argument. He may not know her as well as he should - given how intimate they'd been - but he definitely knew there was nothing that would bug Hermione Granger more than the prospect of not knowing something in its entirety.

"You're just saying that," she asserted firmly. "If that were really the case you would have said something at the time. Isn't this a bit desperate for you? Cornering me outside the library?"

His eyes darkened and he fought to keep his composure. Why did she have to fight him on every little thing? If this was any other girl she'd be under his spell by now, but Granger just had to push things as far as possible.

"How else was I supposed to get you to listen to me?" he inquired, his voice just above a whisper. "I had my reasons for not saying anything before - "

"Yes, and now you'll just have to pay the price," she stated in a tone that left no room for argument. "It's too late Malfoy. I don't want to hear anything you have to say. Now let me go before I scream bloody murder!"

He couldn't help but smirk at her feeble threat, and she mistook it as yet another way of him mocking her.

"You're a complete and utter piece of work," she said sadly, her voice dangerously low. He blinked at the sudden presence of emotion from her. She looked almost disappointed; as though, for a tiny split second, she had wanted to believe him. Any doubts in his mind evaporated at the look on her face; the Dark Lord, his father, Potter and Weasley - the lot of them could go to hell. He didn't care if it was the worst decision he would ever make - his gut instinct had been right, and he wasn't about to let her slip through his fingers again.

He leant a fraction closer to her, and she swallowed thickly. She was looking at him through her lashes, and he could tell she was nervous.

"I'll admit I haven't handled this well so far," he said with as genuinely as he could without revealing the pain the admission caused him. "Don't think I'm enjoying this for a single second...I'm not proud of having to corner you, but you're fucking with my head and I think it's about time it stopped. Ten o'clock at the Astronomy Tower. _Please_ Granger."

Please was not a word he ever used, and confessions were not things he usually did. For a girl who could draw a map of his body with her eyes closed but probably had no idea what his favourite colour was, she seemed to understand how difficult this was for him. Sincerity must have shone through somewhere, because she sighed deeply, before nodding the tiniest of nods in response.

As he watched her walk away he found himself hoping to Merlin that the hard part was finally over.

 **~.:.~**

It wasn't. By far.

Dinner had done Hermione the world of good. She had time to regroup, especially as Harry and Ron were extremely subdued, and was more than prepared to confront Draco with her mental fortresses in tact. It infuriated her that he'd managed to catch her off-guard like that, and she was determined to make sure it didn't happen again. She'd reluctantly acknowledged that, as far as her body was concerned, she had no control over how it responded to him. The increased heartbeat and tingly sensations just couldn't be helped. But her mind was her own; she had fought to reclaim it, and she was not about to let it run away again.

She glanced at him and noted how good he looked leaning against the glass window, the sky's midnight blue reflection giving his features a sparkling tinge. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't intrigued by what he had to say. She'd also be lying if she said that she wasn't going to let anything he had to say affect her resolve in any way shape or form. As idealistic as that stance was, she knew it was unrealistic - she was already warming to the idea of having a sense of closure over the whole thing. Granted she was assuming the outcome of this meeting would be more positive than negative, but she wasn't sure the blond Slytherin could make her feel any worse than he already had.

"Do you remember the last time we were up here?"

His voice was huskier than normal. It provoked memories of his raspy breath in her ear as he gave her a seemingly endless amount of pleasure. She shivered involuntarily.

"No."

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"You're lying."

She rolled her eyes.

"What did you want to say to me?"

"I won't see anyone else."

His complete lack of hesitation floored her. Out of everything she was expecting to hear, that was a sentence she'd never have guessed. She studied him discreetly, looking for the smallest hint of deception. Why was he doing this to her? Just as she was beginning to make peace with the whole thing, he had decided to have a change of heart and complicate things even further.

"Excuse me?"

He frowned at her.

"Have you gone deaf?" he asked with an irritated pout. "I just said I won't see anyone else!"

"Don't do me any favours Malfoy," she snapped angrily. "I don't expect you to do anything of the sort! As far as I'm concerned, this conversation ended weeks ago-"

"I don't _want_ to see anyone else!" he interrupted quickly before she launched into a tirade. "I don't have feelings for Pansy - or anyone else for that matter. I've thought a lot about all of this and I know that I want you. I don't know why, and I can't stand it so don't think this is fun for me, but I know it's useless trying to fight it."

There was a pause. Draco picked at his cuticles whilst Hermione stared at him incredulously.

"Well...as charming as that was..."

"What is it you want from me Granger?" he snapped. It was evident that he had expected her to fawn all over him for his dramatic declaration, and the thought just made her angrier.

"What I want from you is completely irrelevant!" she exclaimed. "We are about to go to war! This thing between us...it's so tiny in comparison to everything else going on. It will hurt a lot of people...it's just not worth it."

Draco rolled his eyes, pushed himself off of the glass and stalked towards her, cupping her face in his hand and bringing his lips down to hers in one fluid movement. Time seemed to stop as her tongue leapt into action to reacquaint itself with his mouth. She sighed softly as he pulled against him with his other hand on her waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she couldn't believe how natural it felt. It was the biggest relief to the pain and anxiety she'd been feeling; all the stress melted away as she gave into the desire she had for him. He pushed against her and she felt his erection against her thigh, snapping her out of her heavenly respite so suddenly it was as though she'd been electrocuted.

"You still think this isn't worth it?" he asked, leaning his head against hers. His silver orbs bore into hers, and she found it hard to string her thoughts together. How could he still affect her like this?

"You really won't shag anyone else?"

It was probably the least articulate she'd ever been, but in that moment she couldn't have cared less. She needed to know he was sincere - that he wasn't just messing with her head again because that was simply what Draco Malfoy did. To his credit, he only looked mildly offended at her question, and he kissed her chastely.

"Granger, I can't even look at another girl without thinking about you. I don't want anyone else; the only thing I want is you."

She felt her heart swoon. She knew she needed to iron out as many details as she could, and get him to state exactly what it was he thought he was committing to. But in that moment, after a few miserably stubborn weeks apart, all she wanted to do was melt into his arms for a few seconds and forget about the whole world.

The logistics would just have to wait until later.


	12. Chapter 12: Learning Curves

**A/N:** Ok so I've taken into account a lot of your comments about not leaving it so long between updates, and I agree - it is so jarring to then have to go back and reread everything because it's been too long and you've forgotten everything that's happened! I promise I'm going to do my best to have regular updates, and on the off chance I'm ever massively late again, I'll include a summary at the start of the chapter! Anyway, I'm so pleased that a lot of you liked the last chapter :) I hope you enjoy this one too - it wasn't my favourite to write, but it's full of Dramione goodness! Thank you for all the favourites, alerts and reviews - I appreciate every single one so much!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot!

 **Chapter 12: Learning Curves**

"If I'd known you were going to react like this I wouldn't have said a damn thing!" Draco grumbled with a frown, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly.

It had been precisely twenty minutes since their passionate reunion, which had consisted only of a hug and a measly few kisses, and he was feeling more and more frustrated by the minute. He'd done his share of waiting; he'd bitten the bullet and told her how he felt - something that he had never done for anyone before - and all he was getting in return was a special kind of torture. Pressed up against him, he was pretty sure where this would be going, and hadn't hesitated in pushing his erection into her thigh. Big mistake. Without being tactful at all, she completely withdrew from him physically, and had retreated to the other end of the room to put as much space between them as possible. He was at a complete loss - he had no idea what to do or how to talk himself out of it; his usual tactic of piling on the charm was something she wasn't even responding to, and the whole situation was rapidly draining him.

The fact that Granger was throwing him the most amused look was only making his mood worse.

"It's your own fault for assuming I was just going to drop my knickers for you in the blink of an eye!" she retorted. "You really don't know me at all do you?"

"I know that you're psychotic and in the process of losing your mind," he stated, all-knowingly. She scowled at him, and he felt the smallest twinge of satisfaction at her irritation. _Good,_ he thought, _she can suffer with me!_

"You can complain as much as you want, but I'm not changing my mind. We are not having sex until we talk things out and get to know each other properly."

Draco tried to ignore the panic alarm going off in his mind and fought to remain logical and in control of his mood.

"This whole thing started because we needed an escape from all the shit going on," he reasoned. "What exactly is the point in taking that element out of the equation?"

She made an exasperated sound of frustration and smacked him on the arm. He spluttered indignantly and she massaged her temples to cling onto her sanity.

"That was before either of us got _feelings_!" she snapped. "And don't you dare try to deny it or nit-pick Malfoy; the fact that you don't want to sleep with anyone else proves it!"

He rolled his eyes, ambled over to her 'side' of the tower, and grabbed her shoulders. Her small frame shrank under his and he loosened his grip a fraction; he'd forgotten exactly how petite she was in comparison to him.

"The fact that I don't want to sleep with anyone else should tell you everything you need to know," he said simply. "I don't know what this is, and I can't make any promises - this is the stupidest, riskiest thing we could possibly do, and I'm not about to rush into anything that could get either one of us killed."

She fidgeted a little and tilted her head so that she could look directly up at him without straining her neck.

"I understand that, but I need this to be something more than just lust if I'm going to be putting Harry in danger like this."

Her words were whispered, and sparked a fierce anger inside him he hadn't anticipated.

"Do you think I would risk being disowned and _killed_ by my family for the sake of a persistent hard on?" he growled nastily. "Use your fucking common sense Granger!"

He had pushed her patience to the limit, and she pulled herself free from him, unimpressed and a little hurt.

"How am I supposed to know any different? I don't know anything about you - and how is this meant to be anything other than lust without us actually getting to know each other? Neither one of us can afford to risk our lives for anything less than something we both feel is worth it, and until we know that it is for sure, we need to take this seriously. And for the record, I can't be with someone who I'm terrified to say anything to; I don't know what's going to set you off...how is that ok?"

"I'm like that with everyone," he said quietly, not having the energy to tackle half of the points she'd made, his blood still boiling with the mention of Saint Potter.

" _I'm_ not everyone."

 **~.:.~**

"Just eat one bite Harry? Please? Your body needs the strength, especially because you feel so sick."

Harry rolled his eyes at his brunette best friend, but reluctantly chewed a tiny morsel of sausage anyway. She beamed at him and his irritation diminished; he was exhausted from duelling practice with Snape, lessons with Dumbledore and Quidditch practice, on top of his half-hearted attempts to stay on top of his school work, and snappiness was becoming a permanent part of his behaviour.

"How's it all been going?" Ron asked through a mouthful of bacon. "Can you tell us anything yet?"

Harry looked a little taken aback at the sudden question - they never discussed things like this in plain sight around the entire student body - and Hermione, ever the perceptive one, made her way down the warpath.

"For heavens sake Ronald! Now isn't the time to pester Harry - he's having a hard enough time eating his breakfast without you bringing that up!"

"I was only asking a bloody question!" Ron exclaimed, slamming his goblet of pumpkin juice down on the table. "No need to be so arsey!"

"I'm not being _arsey_ , I'm being a good friend!"

"To who? Because as one of your _only_ friends I think you're being a bit of a bitch!"

"Guys!" Harry interrupted, taken aback at how quickly things had escalated. " _Neither_ of you are helping right now!"

They both had the grace to look sorry and smile sheepishly, though Harry suspected they would be ignoring each other for a good couple of days now.

"I still can't really talk about it yet," he said in a low whisper. "But Dumbledore did say that the next Death Eater initiation is supposed to be soon. We don't know when, but there have been rumours that it's supposed to be the final one before the war."

Hermione felt her heart stop. Since last night at the Astronomy Tower she'd been in a bubble of sorts, mainly concerned with the next move Draco would make. She'd allowed herself to momentarily forget the bigger picture, and Harry's words had propelled her back into the cold light of day.

Initiation into Voldermort's ranks was not something she knew anything about. She'd always thought the process of getting the Dark Mark was short and simple, but the idea of an initiation made her think it was something of a process - a ceremonious event. It gave her chills to think of the kind of people who would be in attendance. It gave her immense anxiety to think that Draco Malfoy could be one of those people.

"That's crazy...do we know anyone who could be recruited?"

Harry shook his head and Hermione breathed a sigh, though she wasn't sure if it was in relief or annoyance. She didn't think she was ready to deal with the consequences if he _was_ in fact up for initiation, but she also doubted that she had a choice. For the first time since last night, she felt confident in her decision to stop being intimate with him until they put all their cards out on the table. She had no idea if he'd be honest with her; part of her was pretty sure he'd never tell her anything about his life - old habits were likely to die hard, and Draco was the most private person she had ever met.

But he had a habit of surprising her. She never thought he'd seek her out again for anything ever again; she'd resigned herself to thinking he was going to modify his memory to erase the knowledge of her existence altogether. The fact that he'd gone to the effort of cornering her and telling her he wanted to add the element of monogamy to their relationship still sent her reeling.

She was more confused than ever. But the thing that was getting to her the most, out of everything swirling around her chaotic mind, was that she wanted him to work this out with her. She wanted him to be honest and cooperate so that, together, they could figure something out. They had both expressed how necessary it was that they figured out if this thing between them was worth the risk, but she couldn't deny that deep down inside, her heart was already leaning towards one side. And it wasn't the most sensible.

 **~.:.~**

 _Draco,_

 _To clarify what we last discussed, you will be expected at the Manor next weekend. It has just been confirmed. I have spoken to the headmaster about this matter and he expects you to use his personal floo network at eleven o'clock on Saturday morning._

 _Do not be late._

 _Father_

 **~.:.~**

It wasn't coincidence that he managed to corner her right before her Arithmancy class in a tiny alcove. He knew the route like the back of his hand, and he knew her schedule even better. He had merely glanced at his watch and stormed out of his room, knowing exactly where she would be.

This wasn't a great idea. In fact, it was extremely likely to go down as the most idiotic thing he would ever do. His mind was literally screaming at him to turn around with every step he took, but he kept going anyway. It was like he was on some ridiculous autopilot.

Her small frame laden with her characteristic school bag barely being held together at the seams came into view, and he sped up so that he was just about able to grab her hand...causing her to jump about a foot in the air.

"What the - Malfoy? What do you think you're doing?"

"Granger," he spluttered, slightly out of breath. "I need to talk to you."


	13. Chapter 13: Trial and Error

**A/N:** Another weekly update - I feel empowered haha! I've become inspired by this story again, and I've been enjoying planning the next few chapters out - I can't wait to see your reactions! Thank you so, so much for all of the favourites, reviews, alerts and support so far - I was blown away by the response last week, and it really changed my outlook on this whole story. I love interacting with you guys and it really makes my day when you tell me what you think and the little things that stand out to you! I really hope I can do this story justice for you all!

Thank you to Beccax95 and Alicia for leaving guest reviews :)

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot!

 **Chapter 13: Trial and Error**

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Hermione hissed as Draco easily manoeuvred her into an empty classroom. "I have a class I'm now going to be late for because of you! Why can't you ever just talk to me at a sensible time? Is it so difficult to approach me like a normal person?"

It occurred to her mid-way through her rant that he wasn't even listening to her. In her state of irritation she'd not really registered his weird behaviour properly; even now as she was deposited inside, he was darting around the room casting silencing charms and detection spells to ensure they were completely alone. It was the most erratic she had ever seen him, and it was beginning to unnerve her.

"Malfoy? What's the matter?" she was so unsure of what to do and what to say - she didn't want to say the wrong thing and trigger the wrong sort of reaction.

He looked at her from across the room, really looked at her, and she felt completely naked under his stare. It wasn't cold necessarily, but there wasn't even the faintest flicker of warmth in it. It was as though he was looking at her like she was a set of blueprints; the skeleton underneath that supported every single part of her that made her the person he desired. His frown was analytical, as though he was studying her, and she wasn't sure if it was a sensation she liked. It was worlds apart from the way he used to look at her sometimes when they had sex. Those odd occasions when they had a few minutes longer, and he could spend some time indulging the craving he had for her by using his tongue to trace over every single inch of her body. She shivered involuntarily and refocussed her mind before things became intense for a very different reason.

"Draco?" she whispered after it became clear he wasn't going to respond.

The sound of his name on her lips seemed to bring him back to the present, and he cleared his throat and sat down on top of the empty teacher's desk. He looked so small, and she felt more unnerved at the thought of Draco, one of the tallest people she knew, seeming so dwarfed.

"I need to tell you something," he said, his voice hoarse. "And I'm not sure if I should."

"What's making you uncertain?" she asked, leaning against one of the smaller desks in the centre of the room.

"It's going to change everything."

She used the silence that followed to carefully consider her response. How she handled this would shape the way everything would unfold. Wasn't this what she wanted? Hadn't she been waiting for him to open up to her and tell her the truth about everything? No matter how she weighed the future outcomes up in her head, the ones where they faced the consequences together as a united front were the ones that felt the most bearable. The thought of facing the wrath of her best friends, as well as the rest of the Order, never mind the reaction of his family, was a fraction more durable when she envisioned him by her side.

Although, she'd never thought of this as a reality. She'd never actually managed to imagine Draco biting the bullet and acknowledging that they stood a chance, or that what he might feel for her may actually be worth the risk. She was utterly unprepared for this, and he seemed oblivious to the emotional roller coaster he'd managed to sit her on.

"Maybe it's for the best," she said cautiously. "I mean, I think we need things to change to know if this is real...and opening up to each other is the only way to do that."

He still looked unsure, and despite being extremely eager to know what he had to say, she couldn't blame him for not knowing if this was the right step to take. She wasn't sure if they were even doing the right thing; at the end of the day, they were so young for this kind of situation. _Too_ young to know what to do.

"I'm getting the Dark Mark at the next initiation."

Hermione would always look back and remember that moment to be one of the most defining moments of her life. She would forever be surprised at how unsurprised she actually was in that moment. It was not something she was prepared for, but it was not a revelation that had floored her either. His tone was firm; blunt, unapologetic and sure. There was no indication of regret or indecision in his voice, and it irked her massively. She had wanted them to discuss things; this felt very much as though he was telling her what he had decided to do, and she was just going to have to make her peace with it. But a second glance at him made her reconsider. He was not one to reveal his true emotions, and if this was a decision he was truly happy with he wouldn't seem so unhinged and upset; if this was a choice he was content with they wouldn't be here now.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

She flinched at the harsh edge to his voice; she told herself he was just impatient because of the delicate nature of the situation, but it still irritated her immensely. She hated being snapped at, and there was something about the way that he did it that got to her more than anyone else.

"I don't know what you want me to say," she admitted. "You can't just tell me something like that and expect me to have a ready-made reaction!"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"So all of that stuff about wanting us to talk and be honest with each other was bullshit? You were just spouting more of your inherent Gryffindor goody-goody nonsense!"

She could feel herself getting more and more worked up, and the patronising look on his face was not helping matters.

"It's not like you've even given me a chance! You manhandle me in the middle of a corridor right before one of my lessons, shut me in a classroom and tell me something completely life-changing! I'm going to need more than thirty seconds to know what to say!"

"Don't bother!" he snapped sulkily, a stubborn from marring his features as he hopped down from the desk. "I'll deal with it on my own - like I was going to do anyway!"

Hermione pulled at her hair in frustration before fixing him with a determined glare.

"What's the point in any of this when you've clearly made your mind up?"

The look he gave her was one she'd never received before. He didn't look annoyed, but he didn't look particularly pleased with her either.

"Do you think I want this?" he asked, genuinely curious. She shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know," she admitted sadly. "I'd love to be able to say no, but I can't figure any of this out. You're not exactly making this easy."

He loosened his tie and took a few steps towards her.

"I don't want it," he said quietly. It was the first time he'd said those words out loud, and he knew this was probably the most vulnerable he had ever been, but he made a conscious effort to maintain eye contact with her. If she didn't believe him, he didn't think he'd be able to control the downward spiral that would follow. If she truly believed that he didn't want to be branded with it, the rest wouldn't matter, because she'd know the truth.

After three excruciatingly long seconds, she gave the smallest nod, and he felt like he could breathe again.

"So how can we stop it from happening?" she asked in full work mode. He rolled his eyes.

"We can't," he said simply. "It's not like I can R.S.V.P and politely decline."

"Draco we have to think of something! Once it's on you it's there for life; there has to be a way out of this!"

It was the second time she'd used his first name, and she already sounded more comfortable with it. Draco couldn't figure out if he liked this development or not.

"Can you think of one that doesn't completely deface my ancient lineage?" he asked sarcastically, knowing he wasn't being very fair to her. She was a sucker for a cause, and he knew that without even knowing it, he had become one for her. It would outrage him under any other circumstances, but the idea of her caring enough about him to want to make things better for him made him feel weirdly warm inside.

"We need to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

He laughed at the predictability of her grand solution. What was it with the Golden Trio and that man? It was as though he had a beacon shining out of his arse and it brainwashed them into thinking he could solve the world's problems.

"Didn't you hear what I said? You really think running to that old codger is something my ancestors would be proud of?"

Hermione looked affronted.

"Prouder than you coming to a filthy little Mudblood surely?" she retorted. He flinched and she couldn't control the smug feeling that spread through her. He'd been trying her patience - she deserved to take a shot at him.

"I am _not_ going to Dumbledore."

"Well then what do you plan on doing?" she exclaimed. "You don't exactly have the luxury of time, and this is not a joke!"

There was a pregnant pause. Hermione was trying to desperately control the urge to sprint to the headmaster's office and beg him to fix the entire situation. This was all too much too soon. She'd gone from assumptions and contemplative musings about their futures and the role Draco would play in the war, to having to confront the worse case scenario head on. If he got the Dark Mark there would be no going back. Harry and Ron would never understand, and to be honest, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to feel the same about him if he went through with it. The things he'd have to do - the things he'd have to see - the thought sickened her alone.

"You can only receive it if you truly believe in the cause."

His voice broke her out of her thoughts, and as his words washed over her she truly realised the ramifications of what this all meant. She replayed the whole conversation in her mind and her heart dropped. All of this was based on him not wanting to get branded; she hadn't even begun to truly consider whether he still thought that side of the war was worth fighting for. He hadn't exactly said he wanted to change sides - in fact, he was still yet to declare what side he was actually on. The whole thing was messing with her head, and she couldn't stop herself from fixating on the likelihood that he still thought the cause was necessary. That all Muggleborns and Half-Breeds were the scum of the Wizarding world. That Purebloods were naturally superior and deserved to yield extreme power over everyone else. She felt queasy and light-headed and couldn't think straight. She wasn't registering that her mind was in overdrive over mere assumptions, and fixed him with an icy glare.

"You said you don't want to get the Dark Mark," she said, her voice threatening to crack. "But do you agree with what it stands for?"

Draco watched her carefully and felt anger spark in his gut. She was already looking at him with an accusatory stare; as if he'd committed some sort of crime. It hit him that she really had no idea how hard this was for him; how difficult it was to stand against his entire family and admit that the path he'd always thought he'd take was no longer for him. She was _never_ going to understand that things were not always black and white; the world they lived in was a million different shades of grey, and she couldn't just fit him into a little box. He had always been taught to believe a set of things, and the past few months had put the lot to the test. He had thought that seeking her out, admitting that he only wanted her, and opening up to her would make her see he wasn't the same person he had been at the start of the year. But now it felt like such a waste. She had already assumed that he would say yes, and he doubted she'd even listen to his explanation.

"Now who's already made up their mind?" he said in the most casual tone he could muster. "You know what Granger, we really are done here. If you really think you know how I would answer that question then you shouldn't be anywhere near me. Go back to your happy little bubble and forget any of this ever happened."

 **~.:.~**

Professor Snape had had an extremely long day. All of his classes had seemed taxing; there seemed to be a surplus of difficult students this year who just did not understand that their attitude was not clever or amusing. He was beginning to feel the pressures of the impending war from both sides; all of this juggling between the light and dark was weighing heavily on his mind, and he was having a hard time dealing with his own conscience. His life had always been his own to live, and his decisions had always had a direct impact on him and him alone. He had liked it like that; it was lonely, but simple, and that was enough for him.

Until the fateful day when he'd been asked to be Draco Malfoy's godfather. At the time he had begrudgingly accepted, thinking he'd only have to be involved in the most menial of tasks - the slight leniency regarding his attitude at school, the odd spot of advice giving once in a blue moon. He'd never anticipated having any sort of bond with the child - and it would have been so much easier if he hadn't allowed that to happen. But it would seem that a fate had different plans, as from a young age, Draco had attached himself to Severus in the most ridiculous of ways. He sought him out at dinner parties, and asked for him when he hadn't seen him at the Manor in a while. He seemed intrigued by the surly, reclusive figure who refused to fawn over him or pander to his needs. As Draco got older, Lucius materialised into more and more of a controlling figure, his own issues clouding his judgement as a father, and Severus's home became more and more of a sanctuary.

It had always been understood that Draco would follow in his father's footsteps, but Severus had always found it difficult to really imagine. Whether he liked it or not, Draco had his mother's sensitivity, and with that came a conscience that Lucius had never possessed. Looking at the man that small blonde boy had become, Severus felt a huge sense of guilt. Somewhere along the way, he had managed to let him down. He had not been able to offer him a solution - a way out of the mess they had all created. He was still yet to speak, but Severus could tell what was bothering him; since it had been announced that the next initiation would be soon, it had been the only thing on his mind too. The Zabini boy was also in a similar position, but Draco was a far more complex individual - he was not likely to admit that he was scared.

"So," he began, swirling his glass of firewhiskey with a quirked eyebrow. "What brings you to my office, Draco?"

Draco looked at him through his eye lashes, a look of complete helplessness on his face.

"I've fucked everything up."


	14. Chapter 14: When Words Fail

**A/N:** Hey guys! Sorry this is about 2-3 weeks late - I've been super busy, and I've been doing that annoyingly unhelpful thing of writing a little bit more every now and again as opposed to getting lots written up when I'm in the moment! As promised, there will be a brief recap so no one has to reread anything! Thank you so, so much for the reviews, favourites and alerts - I love the fact you guys are enjoying this and interacting with me! I definitely think you'll all like this chapter...it's been a long time coming if you ask me! Don't forget to let me know what you think!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot. Also, I'm not referring to any particular potion half-way through this chapter; I just made it up!

 **RECAP:** Draco finally told Hermione that he was expected to attend the upcoming Death Eater initiation, and her reaction - full of assumption and a lack of real understanding (not completely her fault given how bad Draco is at communication) - propelled an angry Draco to seek out the counsel of his surly Godfather.

 **Chapter Fourteen: When Words Fail**

"So that's it? Just grow up? _That's_ your big solution?"

Normally his godfather's blunt, disinterested attitude would have been a welcome slice of normality. Under any other circumstances, he probably would have felt reassured that, despite the ever-changing nature of his life at the moment, some things would always remain the same. But given that he'd just confessed his fears about the next step towards his future, alluding to his traitorous thoughts of defying, not just his father, but centuries of ancient tradition on both sides of his family by possibly not going through with the initiation, it was a rather unnerving reaction.

Snape offered him an amused look, his eyes dancing with repressed laughter.

"What else do you want me to say?" he asked as he reclined a little in his plush chair.

"I don't know!" spluttered Draco in a fashion utterly unlike himself. "Maybe something of more use given that my days are literally numbered!"

Severus rolled his eyes at the blonde's theatrics but sobered nonetheless. Past the adolescent outburst was the stark, unavoidable truth - this really was a life or death situation that, from the looks of things, was not likely to end particularly well. Truthfully, he had been waiting for this moment for years. The moment where reality set in, and the Malfoy heir effectively ran for the hills. Given everything he had been through himself with this foolish war - the pressure from both sides to deliver a level of unwavering loyalty, the constant confliction within himself as to whether he was doing the right thing, the sleepless nights, the solitary existence that would have sent others mad by now - he knew exactly how demanding this entire situation could be, and Draco Malfoy had not been built to withstand that kind of pressure. He had, however, been built to adhere to his family's wishes and mind games. He had been raised to respect the duties and responsibilities that accompanied his position in the Malfoy line.

Draco would not be in this state just because he was scared of fulfilling his destiny. Of course, his cocky persona was indeed a front to mask his true feelings, but Draco had always had a water-off-a-duck's-back attitude. If he couldn't change something, or if he couldn't throw a tonne of money at it, he would just get on with it with a furious scowl etched onto his face. Something had provoked this fear; something had him spooked and had sent him careening into his office, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

The older wizard leant forward in his chair and rested his palms on the polished oak desk.

"I'll start being helpful if you start being honest."

Draco swallowed thickly and fought to regain control of himself. He hadn't thought any of this through, and now it was too late to back out. He'd stupidly thought he could just blame it all on the initiation and Snape would just accept it. He'd forgotten that, if he really wanted to, his godfather could welcome himself to the innermost secrets of his mind right there. How much was he supposed to reveal? He was barely able to admit the reality of the situation to himself, let alone to the one person who would be sure to confirm all of his deepest concerns and instruct him to nip this madness with Granger in the bud before anything else happened.

"And don't even think about trying to lie to me!"

Draco scoffed, but heeded the warning, and finally met his godfather's stare. A lot of people feared the man in front of him, many others questioned him, and pretty much anyone who knew him or knew of him struggled to really understand the kind of man Severus Snape was. But to Draco, he had always been a reassuring, consistent figure whose mind worked like no other. But could he really tell him about his...his _connection_ to Hermione Granger? The situation was bad enough already - if he admitted the one thing he still kept as a secret - he'd be opening a can of worms he'd never be able to close.

The worst thing was that, even after the humiliating encounter they'd just had, where she may as well have driven a stake through his heart just to intensify the fact that she had absolutely no faith in him at all, he still wasn't sure if he'd ever want to close this chapter. There was something about her - he used to think she was an addiction in every sense of the word, along with it's seductive connotations, but now he knew it was something more. She made him want to think - really think - about the future. She made him consider that he was capable of more than just strutting down the path paved out for him.

But the irony was that, just as he'd finally seen that, she'd made it crystal clear that her stance would never change. She'd always put him in that same box she'd had him in for years - she'd never be willing to see the reasons behind his decisions; how could he ever explain to her that he didn't believe in that cause, and she was the main reason for this, but if it meant saving his family he'd train his mind to accept it. She would never see that he wasn't just a man; he had the exact same amount of responsibility on his shoulders as Potter, but just because it was for an elite system that she would never truly see without coloured glasses, it wasn't deemed relevant. Why wasn't this enough to make him want to close that door?

"Oh for the love of Salazar boy, hurry up! I haven't got all night!"

Draco jumped as Snape slammed his hand down on the desk.

"Granger!" he exclaimed, regretting it the moment he'd voiced the last syllable.

To his credit, this time Snape didn't disappoint with his reaction. Any colour that usually existed on Snape's face had drained, and the silence that enveloped them was deafening. A clock ticked and the odd owl hooted from outside, but that was the full extent of the noise in that moment.

"I hope that whatever you're about to tell me has absolutely nothing to do with _Miss Hermione Granger_ \- the brightest and most insufferable bookworm I have ever had the displeasure of teaching!"

Draco dropped his gaze and didn't even bother attempting to reply. What was the point? The cat was well and truly out of the bag now and things were about to get extremely messy.

"Do you have a death wish?" Severus pressed, his frown set deeply into place. "Or are you just incredibly stupid?"

"It's not like I planned any of this!" Draco flared, ignoring the fact that his idiocy thus far could give Crabbe or Goyle a run for their money, and focusing instead on his bruised ego. "It was just sex - it happened...and then it kept happening...and then it stopped...and now -"

"And now what, Draco?" the raven-haired Professor goaded. "What exactly _is_ your plan now? Because I don't think you have any idea of what you've done!"

"Of course I bloody well know what I've done!" he bellowed, any hopes of keeping his temper restrained dashed out of the window. "My father will never accept this, the Dark Lord will want to Avada me on the spot, and that's if Potter and Weasley haven't attempted to rip me to shreds -"

"YOU HAVEN'T GOT A CLUE!" yelled Snape as he got to his feet and leant menacingly over the desk. " _First_ of all, if this is more than sex you have to choose between her or your family and you have to do it now. You were prepared to take the mark for their sake before, and you can convince yourself to do it again if you draw a line under all of this nonsense straight away. It will be difficult, but we'll just manage to make it in time for the initiation to be a success."

Draco held his breath as the words finally began to sink in. As much as he'd danced around it, the fact that actually getting through the initiation was still a feasible option was disconcerting. It just made him aware of the fact that he'd actually written it off in his mind a long time ago. Had Hermione Granger been under his skin for that long? Or was this also partly down to his own subconscious?

"But if you don't choose this," Severus continued solemnly, "you had better get used to the idea of grovelling, being completely disowned and feeling like you have to prove yourself for the rest of your life to the same people you've ridiculed and hated for years. Because that's exactly what she'll expect you to do - become a part of the Order. Align yourself with them and fight against your own blood. _That_ is the life you will be choosing, and that, son, is the reality of this colossal mess you've created."

 **~.:.~**

 _The properties of the potion, native to the Eastern hemisphere of the Wizarding World, are as follows:_

 _It is cool to the touch, but reacts to the wound instantly, producing a heated steam._

 _It is a murky green in colour and expels a floral odour that is not unpleasant, but can become hypnotic in concentrated volume._

 _It..._

"Hermione are you ok? You've not written anything in around ten minutes!"

Ginny's voice snapped her out of her daydream and she blinked at her meagre notes. She couldn't even remember what potion she was supposed to be writing about. A quick glance around confirmed her guess that she was in the library 'studying' with the youngest Weasley. She had to stop zoning out like that; chance favoured the prepared mind, and after her heated argument with Malfoy she was feeling anything but prepared.

"Sorry," she murmured with a wan smile. "I must have been off in my own world."

Ginny gave her a strange look before putting down her quill. She fiddled with it nervously.

"You can talk to me, you know...about Harry I mean...I don't mind."

"Harry?"

Hermione tried to keep the confusion out of her voice, but inside she was rapidly trying to figure out what all of this was about.

"Yeah...look I know that I've not been the best person to have around recently. I can't help but want to scream at him whenever I see him, and I know that's not fair given everything he's going through. But if you ever need to talk about how intense it's all getting...well...I guess I'm trying to say that I understand."

The brunette mentally weighed her options up inside her head. She could tell Ginny that nothing was wrong and she was just extremely sleep-deprived, and then steer her in the direction of ranting about the infamous Boy-Who-Lived for however long it took her to forget how the conversation had started. Or, she could use the opportunity in front of her to try and get her head straight, even if it meant tweaking the truth a little bit.

"Do you think there's anything Harry could do that would ever make you see him differently?"

Ginny looked a little surprised at the full-on question but, seeing the sincerity on her friend's face, decided against making a joke to lighten the mood.

"In what way do you mean?" she asked.

Hermione shifted awkwardly, hoping to Merlin that she worded this right and didn't make a mess of it. One wrong word could have catastrophic results, and she really didn't have the energy for a showdown with Ginny Weasley.

"In regards to the war," she whispered, unsure of whether she was doing the right thing. "I mean...he's so young - we all are - and the decisions he'll have to make in the battle...do you think there's anything he could do in the heat of the moment that would make you feel differently about him."

She waited with baited breath as her friend pondered her question, genuinely anxious to see if she'd given too much away. Ginny sighed and pulled her hair into a high ponytail, the expression on her face thoughtful.

"The thing is Mione, you have to stop looking at it as single decisions that he's having to make as an individual. It's actually the opposite; every decision he makes isn't for himself, but for the entire Wizarding World. Truth is, if he doesn't make some of the more unpleasant ones, You Know Who wins and we're all screwed."

Hermione chewed her bottom lip in confusion and Ginny smiled at her.

"I know you see things in a much more black and white way, and that's not a bad thing. But this isn't a black and white situation; it's not really people's actions that matter so much as the reasons behind them, and we all know Harry's intentions are good."

Hermione nodded in understanding, trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible, despite the fact that she felt like she'd been hit by a tonne of bricks. _That_ was it - the thing she'd not been able to see for all this time had finally slotted into place!

It was all about _perception_. It always had been and it always would be. Now she really saw it for what it was, she couldn't understand how she'd ever missed it. When Draco had told her that in order to receive the Dark Mark, one had to truly believe in the cause it represented, she'd assumed he was one of those people. Why else would he be willing to do it? She'd not factored in that Draco's motivations were not the same as Voldermort's. Just as her own reasons for fighting in the war were not entirely identical to Harry's - she wanted equality and peace for all wizards and muggles, but she didn't share the same lust for revenge that fuelled Harry in his darkest moments. Malfoy had shown her recently that he did see things differently to before, and she had been completely oblivious to it at the most vital moment.

She stood up abruptly, knocking her chair back and startling Ginny.

"Sorry! Thank you so much Gin - you're amazing!" she exclaimed while enveloping her in a tight hug. "I have to go, but I'll see you later!"

She didn't wait to hear Ginny's response. She didn't take any notice of anyone as she rushed out of the library, shoving her books and parchment into her bag as she went.

She needed to find him.

 **~.:.~**

The sight of the familiar room made him feel like he could finally breathe again. He'd left his godfather's office in a weird state of mind, and he'd wandered the castle aimlessly for a while without really taking anything in. His feet had carried him right outside the Room of Requirement, and he'd entered without really thinking about the room he was conjuring in his mind. Looking at it now, he was extremely grateful.

He glanced at the bed in the far corner and tried not to let his mind linger on the things he'd done with _her_ there. He needed to think and finally come to some sort of decision about everything. Once and for all, before his time ran out for good.

 **~.:.~**

It was only half an hour later that she arrived, and her presence made the room feel incredibly stifling. He stood as she walked towards him, trying to work out why the hell she looked so...so... _bouncy._ Her cheeks were glowing and her eyes were sparkling almost mischievously. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react or how he was supposed to be feeling; once again, Hermione Granger had knocked him for six, and he wasn't best pleased about it.

"Am I missing something?" he asked gruffly.

She flashed him a smile and stopped right in front of him, tilting her head to look him straight in the eye.

"I didn't understand it earlier," she said, her voice slightly hoarse after practically running the whole way here. "And I am so, so sorry for that. But I get it now. I understand everything. I understand _you_."

She put one hand on his waist right on top of his belt, and used the other to brush some of his silky locks out of his eyes before gently cupping his cheek and tracing his jaw. He stood extremely still, barely remembering to breathe as she invaded his space as though it was the most natural thing in the world to her.

"I haven't got this all figured out," she continued as she slowly brought her body closer to his. So close that her breasts brushed against his chest. "But I know that I want to find a way through this somehow. Because the thing is, Draco Malfoy, I have feelings for you that just won't go away."

She deliberately ghosted her lips over his before tracing them along his cheek to his ear.

"And I know now that I wouldn't change them for anything."

And _that_ was his undoing.

 **A/N:** Just thought I'd throw this in here - this isn't a bad cliff hanger I promise! :) Let me know what you think, and I'll have the next chapter up very soon! xxx


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